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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851836">Point, Cover Point</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/navalier/pseuds/navalier'>navalier</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(mentioned not described and just stuff that was canon), Alternate Universe - High School, Declarations Of Love, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Dom/sub, Literal Sleeping Together, POV Gideon Nav, Protectiveness, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, htn spoilers if you reeeeeeally squint, the author is in love with gideon nav and also played lacrosse what could go wrong, underage substance use mentioned briefly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:36:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,931</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851836</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/navalier/pseuds/navalier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gideon has her stick, a hearty repertoire of memes, and no more time for why-is-her-childhood-enemy-who-hates-sports-suddenly-managing-her-lacrosse-team nonsense.</p><p>OR</p><p>gideon nav is a lax bro SEND TWEET</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>136</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>177</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The halftime buzzer blared. Gideon swore.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You keep that stick above your waist or so help me God, Nav—” Coach yelled from the bench. Gideon glared but dutifully rested the head of her stick on her shoulder instead of letting it drag on the ground as she made her way to the sideline, spine slumped and eyes downcast. “And wipe that kicked-puppy look off your face, you’re the captain for fuck’s sake.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon grinned maniacally instead as she reached the bench. “Better?” she spat, tucking her mouthguard into her bra and pushing her goggles to the top of her head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As expected, Aiglamene pursed her lips angrily. “Fix the attitude or I’ll have you running laps until you’re old enough to rent a car. Talk to your team.” Without another word, Coach walked away, making a beeline for the scorekeepers’ table, no doubt to vent to them about how she was coaching the worst lacrosse team in the history of sports.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She didn’t like to admit it, but Coach was right: Gideon was the captain. She had work to do. With a sigh, she turned to the field and faced the rest of the team, who were walking slowly back to the benches without looking at each other. You’d think they’d be used to losing this badly by now. “Hustle back, guys. Get water. Everyone at the crease in two.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Snatching another bottle of water from the bench, Gideon jogged back onto the field to their goalie. Cam was already sitting inside the net with her helmet off – she knew the drill by this point and never bothered to come to the sidelines, knowing Gideon would bring her water and they would have their little halftime chat on her turf.  “Thanks,” Cam said quietly as Gideon tossed her the bottle. “sorry 8 keeps fouling you so hard. She’s really got it out for you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon grunted. “Whatever. She knows I’d totally kick her ass if Coach wasn’t such a stickler about getting too many yellow cards.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where <em>is</em> Coach?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Scorekeepers’. Probably complaining to them about how hopeless we are.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s not your fault. The Cavs have been awful for generations, our school is so underfunded, and it’s not like lacrosse—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I know, Cam,” Gideon rubbed her forehead with the heel of her palm dejectedly. “We suck, we’re always gonna suck, best we can hope for is a few of us get noticed for All-Stars.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well,” Cam had that know-it-all tone in her voice Gideon hated so much. “if anyone’s got a shot at that on this team, we know it’s you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks.” Gideon said gruffly, taking another swig of water. She dragged herself to her feet as the rest of the team started walking over. Fidgeting with some loose tape on the end of her stick, she waited patiently while the Cavaliers settled around her. “Everyone here? Where’s goth-nerd-manager?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>One of the freshmen pointed back at the bench. “Doing homework behind our stuff.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hmmf.” Gideon squinted to where Jeannemary had been pointing. “Nonagesimus! Get your creepy ass over here, and bring the scorebook!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Weird as ever, Harrowhark slammed shut whatever textbook she had been reading (probably for <em>fun</em>) and stalked onto the field. She was grimacing like Gideon had just asked her to wear neon pink or something. “You can’t seriously be desperate enough to be asking <em>me </em>to play, Nav.” she said icily.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon openly laughed. “Gross, never.” She snatched the scorebook out of Harrowhark’s bony little hands. “Pretty sure you’d break in half the first time someone checked you anyway. You need to be here because I needed this book and because you’re part of the team.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“As a technicality only.” Harrow sniffed haughtily. She was <em>such </em>a bitch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, Miss Technicality,” Gideon was angry and sick of losing and feeling spiteful. “maybe it’s time for you to step up and pull some weight around here. This quarter your job is to figure out why Beth keeps losing the draw.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Right on cue, Coronabeth Tridentarius scoffed and started yelling. “How is this <em>my </em>fault?!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Beth, you’re pushing instead of pulling – you need to flip it <em>back </em>toward the wings. Ianthe, you’re standing too close to the arc – I need you right on the circle. Defense, why am I the only one guarding the crease? When I yell ‘crease’ you say ‘how high’ and fucking <em>get there</em>.” Gideon snarled. The freshmen cowered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let me make sure I’ve got this correct,” Harrowhark said unexpectedly, her black eyes boring into Gideon’s soul. “I should make note of what everyone is doing wrong except for you, Nav?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon’s mouth dropped open. <em>What the fuck</em>. “Do you even know the head from the mesh, Nonagesimus? You’ve been here, what, a week?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m just confused. Am I supposed to be pulling my weight or standing back because I don’t know anything?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Both!” Gideon fumed. She took a deep breath. The rest of the team was watching. “You and I will talk later. Cavs: we know we won’t win this one, but we can at least put up a good fight. And make sure Cam can still walk tomorrow. These guys shoot <em>hard</em>. Wings and attacks, passing drills until the timer hits 1:00. Defense, with me. We’re gonna figure out how to stop #8 from being such a bag of douches.” Gideon nodded approvingly as the team followed out her instructions, then turned to glare at Harrowhark. “I don’t really care what you do for the rest of this game. Just stay out of my way.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrowhark sneered. “My pleasure.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gritting her teeth, Gideon tried to push that stupid sneer out of her head. She had a game to lose-somewhat-less-badly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*             *             *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Later, when the rest of the Cavaliers were sleeping or sharing food or desperately trying to finish some homework, Gideon reluctantly made her way to the mostly-empty front of the bus and plopped herself heavily beside Harrowhark. The manager startled, snapping her notebook shut and visibly flinching away from Gideon.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Relax, I’m not gonna clobber you. Today.” Gideon rolled her eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s not—” Harrowhark’s thin lips somehow got even thinner. “You surprised me. And you smell.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s just my naturally sexy musk, it’s a side effect of being a hot student athlete. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Gideon tossed her head and smirked as a fleck of sweat flung itself from the ends of her hair and landed satisfyingly on Harrowhark’s pinched little face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrowhark blinked and grunted, wiping her face in disgust. “I very much doubt that most people would consider you a <em>student</em> athlete, Nav. Aren’t you almost failing several classes?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Emphasis on <em>almost</em>. Can’t play if I’m actually failing, so I do enough to get by.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrowhark rolled her eyes. “Right. Because school only exists to ensure you get to play <em>lacrosse</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See, <em>that’s </em>what I wanted to talk to you about,” Gideon said seriously. “You’re the manager of this team. But you don’t do anything, you make fun of athletes, and you <em>hate </em>lacrosse. And probably all sports. And all other fun things in life. What’s your deal?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know why I’m here. I need—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“—to have more variety on your stupid transcript so you can get into all the Ivies or whatever.” Gideon practically recited, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, literally everyone has heard your little spiel by now. I meant why are you managing <em>our</em> team. There are plenty of other sports that need managers. Ones that aren’t captained by one of the people you’ve hated since <em>kindergarten</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now it was Harrowhark’s turn to roll her eyes. “You seriously still won’t let that go? It’s been 12 years—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“—you tried to stab me in the eye with a goddamn <em>chicken bone</em>, Nonagesimus, literally what 5-year-old does that?!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What 5-year-old brings a <em>knife</em> to school and threatens to stab another kid with it when she doesn’t agree to play pirates with her?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon grinned. “Foster care will fuck you up, man.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrowhark snorted. “Don’t blame your mental instability on bad parenting.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Holy <em>privilege</em>, batman!” Gideon lowered her voice dangerously. “Bad parenting is giving your toddler whole grapes for a snack. Not sure I’d call ‘taking in a cheeky, reject child for the stipend money and sending her off to the next home ASAP when she tries to run away after you starve her for being queer’ <em>bad parenting</em>. Pretty sure there’s another word for that, and it doesn’t involve the word ‘parenting’ at all.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If I wanted to hear your sob story again, Nav, I’d take out a subscription.” Harrowhark said coldly. “Leave me alone, I’m busy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I want to know why you chose to manage the lacrosse team.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Go away.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No. Tell me. Is it because you’re secretly in love with me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Disgusting.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“HA! Now I know you’re lying. Everyone wants a piece of this.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not everyone.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“True, you’re an emo kid who still hasn’t realized 2007 is over. You’re never gonna see MCR in concert, babe.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Go. Away.</em>”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon felt her brow furrow. Harrowhark was being surprisingly stubborn about this. Maybe there was some weird and wild reason for her to be on this team after all? If Gideon needed to unlock Harrowhark’s tragic backstory to figure this out, no thank you. That wasn’t on the agenda today. “Fine,” she said. “don’t tell me. I’ll just continue to assume it’s because I’m irresistibly hot.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon returned to the back of the bus, back where there were sandwiches and Vines and sweaty athletes she could understand. As long as Harrowhark didn’t mess with their game, Gideon was happy to let her involvement in the team remain a mystery unsolved.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Because Gideon’s life was apparently a giant cosmic joke rolled around an even bigger “fuck you,” Harrowhark continued to be much more involved in the team than either of them would’ve liked. Maybe it was because Coach was finally fed up with doing it all herself, or because she was getting revenge for four years of Gideon’s bullshit, but either way Harrowhark was suddenly in charge of a ton of stuff. And Gideon didn’t like it one bit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Especially when that “stuff” involved bossing Gideon around. Or worse: bossing Gideon around while Gideon was in <em>pain</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck – goddamn it fuck –“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t be such a baby, Nav—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not— Coach, get her away from me—” Gideon groaned, but even she was unclear about whether the pain was related to Harrowhark’s impending closeness or the stabbing agony in Gideon’s leg. Harrowhark was approaching along with Aiglamene, and it must have been one of the most unwelcome things in the world, seeing that creepy, hollow face looming over her as Gideon lay helpless on the field.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shush,” said Coach tersely. “she’s here to help. Nonagesimus, get an arm around your neck—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Like hell!” Gideon yelled. “Stay the <em>fuck</em>—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, were you planning to walk to the bench yourself, then?” Coach’s tone was angry, but there was a tightness underneath it all that (to a total idiot) might have sounded like… concern.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I’ve got this.” Gideon struggled onto her elbows and tried to roll onto her side without moving her leg too much. Within moments a shock of agony ran through her from knee to groin, and she fell back with a quiet yelp.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s what I thought.” Coach nodded at Harrowhark, who looked nothing short of terrified. <em>Good</em>. “On three—” Not good.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon continued protesting weakly as she felt one of Coach’s wiry arms and one of Harrowhark’s emaciated arms each hoist her up from under the armpits. The three of them hobbled awkwardly to the sidelines surrounded by light applause, no doubt looking like some kind of monstrous triple-humanoid construct that had only ever considered the idea of walking before. Gideon’s knee twinged with pain with every step, but she finally made it to the bench. She wished she could’ve said the same for her pride.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Coach examined Gideon’s leg with the same cool efficiency as she did with everything else, declared that Gideon wasn’t going to die today, and started walking back to the sideline. Gideon panicked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What— Coach, no! You can’t leave me here alone with her!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In response, Aiglamene spared Gideon a single withering glare before turning back to the game.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fine, but if she murders me and I’m too weak to defend myself it’s totally your fault!” Gideon yelled to unhearing ears. Harrowhark knelt beside her and started poking at her knee without a word. “Yo! Fuck off!” Gideon tried to yank her leg away from the offending fingers but that turned out to be a terrible idea – she howled in pain and flopped back onto the grass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’ve sprained your medial collateral ligament.” Harrowhark spewed. “Probably.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon scowled. “How would you even know that?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My parents are orthopedic surgeons,” the other girl replied, as if that explained <em>anything</em>. She rolled her eyes when Gideon still looked bemused. “Their medical journals are all over the house.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whatever, nerd,” Gideon glared hopelessly at her traitor knee. This was <em>not </em>supposed to be how her last season of lacrosse started. “Just don’t touch me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Trust me, I take no pleasure in this.” She actually sounded like she meant it, which calmed Gideon down a little. Then she remembered something extremely important.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hang on – where’s my stick?!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrowhark picked up Gideon’s stick from beside her and handed it over. Gideon snatched it from her bony little hand and examined it closely. Her trusty STX had been with her through thick and thin, with its slightly warped head, countless nicks along the shaft, and fraying athletic tape holding the rubber cap to the end. She’d never be able to afford another one. Satisfied everything was in order, Gideon clutched the stick to her chest and lowered herself back to the ground.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Unfortunately, her moping was interrupted by Harrowhark continuing to hover over her like an ugly little gargoyle. “Why are you still here?” she asked nastily.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Aiglamene told me to take care of you,” Harrowhark replied, her tone just as nasty. “I’m <em>pulling my weight</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nonagesimus, has anyone ever told you that you are the human embodiment of a bag of moldy dicks?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon sincerely hoped she had imagined the smile that danced around Harrowhark’s lips. But she was pretty sure she didn’t imagine it. Gross. Theory that Harrowhark got off on making other people angry? Confirmed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Regardless,” Harrowhark said lightly, dragging a giant first aid kit from under a bench. “I told Aiglamene I would. So here we are. Ice, compression, and elevation is what we do next. Here.” She handed Gideon an ice pack. Gingerly, Gideon arranged the pack on her knee, hissing with pain at the sudden freezing pressure. “Good. It needs to stay there for 20 minutes. Do you need some water?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon narrowed her eyes. Harrowhark was being surprisingly… helpful. And not a total bitch. “Yeah. Water would be good.” With a silent nod, Harrowhark got up and grabbed a cup of water from one of the prefilled ones sitting on top of the cooler. Gideon guzzled it down greedily, and before she could say a word Harrowhark was pressing another one into her hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks,” Gideon said awkwardly, unable to meet Harrowhark’s eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrowhark ignored her, too busy rifling through the first aid kit. “Doesn’t this thing have any painkillers? Even a single ibuprofen?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon laughed. “Nah, last year one of the seniors – pretty sure it was Abby Pent but can’t confirm – snorted them all on a dare and we haven’t replaced them yet.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Snorted—” Harrowhark’s mouth dropped open. She shut it quickly and shook her head, clearly disgusted. “Athletes are <em>psychopaths</em>. And unfortunately for you, that means a lot of pain until we get back to the school. Which will probably be closed. So a lot of pain until you get home.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah,” Gideon felt the grin slide off her face and turn into a grimace. Her current foster parent didn’t believe in “drugs,” including painkillers. He would give her a cloth doused in eight different kinds of essential oils and call it good. “Yeah, that sucks. Unrelated, but you don’t know where I could buy some weed, do you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She was only half-joking. Her knee really fucking hurt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrowhark deadpanned, “No.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, that was a long shot.” Gideon bit her lip, staring at her leg and already wondering how she was going to sleep tonight. Maybe Cam had something—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you… have ibuprofen at home, Nav?” Harrowhark asked so quietly that Gideon wasn’t even sure she really heard it. Nevertheless, she could feel the blush creeping from her chest all the way to the tips of her ears, so clearly something embarrassing had been said. Harrowhark apparently saw Gideon go bright red and immediately started talking again. “Sorry. It’s not a big deal, I just— someone mentioned that your new parents are… eccentric.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s nice. Or tries to be.” Gideon didn’t know why she felt the need to defend John. He was definitely an asshole sometimes. And the kind of idiot who didn’t ascribe to <em>modern medicine</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrowhark stared at Gideon searchingly. Gideon wasn’t able to look back at her, because if she saw even a shred of pity in those black eyes Gideon would absolutely deck her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have some in my locker,” Harrowhark said suddenly, then looked angry, like her mouth had said something her brain had <em>explicitly forbidden</em> it to say. All of this baffled Gideon.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uhh. School’s gonna be closed, as we already established. But… thanks.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It won’t be if we leave now.” Now it was Gideon’s turn to stare. Was Harrowhark offering her a… ride?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The game—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re not playing again today, Griddle.” It was her childhood nickname. Back then it had fallen from bullies’ lips sharply, a jab at the fact she had a <em>boys’ </em>name. Now it sounded soft, reminiscent. And Harrowhark was right, she was done for this game…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I should stay, I’m the captain.” Gideon said halfheartedly. As unappealing as it sounded to spend any amount of time one-on-one with Harrowhark Nonagesimus, spending a sleepless night with a throbbing knee was less appealing. Probably.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrowhark gave her an exasperated look. “The Cavaliers are down twelve to one. I don’t think having you moaning on the sidelines is going to help the situation.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Brutal but fair point.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fine. I guess we can go if it’s okay with Coach.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I asked her as soon as that other girl slide tackled you.” Harrowhark seemed to immediately realize she had said something super weird. Her cheekbones were suddenly tinged with pink. Gideon stared. “I mean— it looked like it was bad, I thought you might be out for the game, and I know—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t finish that sentence,” Gideon interrupted. This didn’t need to get any weirder. “Thanks for the offer. Let’s go.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Getting Gideon to her feet with only one person was an awkward affair rife with swearing, uncomfortable touches, and no small amount of threatening on both sides. Eventually Gideon was up, pathetically leaning on the tiny scrap of human flesh that passed for Harrowhark, but standing (mostly). After Harrowhark shoved all of Gideon’s stuff in her duffel and waved goodbye to Coach, they started making their ungainly way to the parking lot, stopping occasionally to let Gideon catch her breath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When they finally reached Harrow’s car (a clunker, Gideon was surprised to see – she had assumed the Nonagesimuses were rich), Gideon swung into the front seat and made herself at home. Harrowhark started the engine and Gideon got another surprise as pop music started blaring through the sound system.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Was that… Billie Eilish?” Gideon said, feeling her eyes widen as Harrowhark hurriedly pressed the audio power button.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow didn’t seem ashamed, though. “Yes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh,” Gideon tried to grapple with this new information. She had always assumed Harrowhark listened to an insane combination of death metal, grindcore, and… children screaming, or something. “She’s cool.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They made the two-minute drive from the athletic fields to the school in an uncomfortable silence. Neither of them, it seemed, had any idea what to say to the other. Gideon considered starting some small talk just to keep her mind off her knee, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth it. Harrowhark pulled into a parking space near the front doors and turned off the car.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You can stay here, if you like.” Harrow said hesitantly, like she wasn’t sure she trusted Gideon to be alone in her car. Gideon didn’t entirely blame her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, right,” Gideon scoffed, already pulling the door open. “so you can finally set off the car bomb you’ve got rigged to kill me when I’m finally left alone? I don’t think so. I’m coming in.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Suit yourself,” replied Harrow coolly, but she seemed slightly relieved. She glanced down at Gideon’s leg, which had already swollen to twice its normal size. Gideon leaned heavily against the car door and fought to keep her face blank. A flicker of concern danced around Harrow’s eyes. “Maybe sit on that bench to wait instead, though. To rest your knee.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yep,” Gideon said breathlessly, already starting to hobble in that direction. Harrowhark was beside her in an instant, grabbing her around the shoulders and pulling them together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve got you, Nav.” Harrow said steadily.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The stupid part was that Gideon believed her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>shameless hurt/comfort with grumpy!gideon and protective!harrow? I'm pandering to myself</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>No doubt about it, being benched sucked ass. Not that it was fun to lose – but at least when she was playing and they lost she could <em>do </em>something to potentially change that. Still, sitting on the sideline wasn’t the worst thing in the world. A tiny, pathetically optimistic part of Gideon noted that watching her team play as an outside observer was actually useful.</p><p> </p><p>She noticed things she never would have seen from behind the restraining line. How awkwardly Jeannemary hovered around the circle instead of supporting the offense – she would be better suited to playing point, why had Gideon made her third man? It was also painfully clear that the attacks had no idea where the “hash” was, they would definitely need to review that. And goddammit – Beth was <em>still </em>losing the draw every time because she hadn’t mastered flipping it back to the attack wings. Muttering to herself and somewhat surprised she had missed all this before, Gideon searched frantically for a pen and some paper to jot everything down. All she found was a Sharpie, so she started scribbling it all on the top of her thigh. Good enough.</p><p> </p><p>“Use this, you heathen.”</p><p> </p><p>Gideon glanced up halfway through drawing a diagram on her inner arm. Harrow was standing over her, thrusting a legal pad under Gideon’s nose like it had personally attacked her. “Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“Paper. Most people write notes on paper.” Harrow’s words were dry and sarcastic, but her tone was only mildly annoyed.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks.” Gideon took the pad hesitantly. She wasn’t entirely sure where the two of them stood at this point. They were forced to spend a lot more time together than Gideon liked, due to Gideon’s nothing’s-fine-I’m-torn-ligament, but it hadn’t been entirely awful so far. Mostly they stayed away from each other. Every once in a while something weird like this happened where they interacted and it was fine.</p><p> </p><p>“Also, Beth isn’t going to master flipping back during the draw anytime soon,” Harrow said smoothly, glancing at Gideon’s notes. “you should have her go straight up with it, then she can catch it herself.”</p><p> </p><p>Gideon considered this. “That’s… actually not a bad idea. And Beth’s tall, she’ll probably snag it every time.”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s also incredibly self-absorbed, I don’t think she ever really wanted the ball to go to anyone else.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mean but fair.” Gideon surveyed the other girl carefully. “Why are you getting involved in this stuff all of a sudden?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m just bored,” Harrow replied with a sneer. “and you looked like you needed the help.”</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever. Just because you figured out <em>one </em>thing doesn’t mean you’re suddenly a lacrosse guru.”</p><p> </p><p>Harrow sniffed. “Believe me, that particular aspiration will never make it to my list of life goals.”</p><p> </p><p>Gideon decided not to bother replying to that one. This team had the potential to be amazing – especially if she took the time to step back and observe things strategically. And wrote them down. On paper.</p><p> </p><p>She had work to do.</p><p>*             *             *</p><p> </p><p>“—so anyway, Crux was all like, ‘wahh, Nav was looking at porn on the library computers again’ which, c’mon, I’m stupid but I’m not <em>that </em>stupid. And we all know Crux is a taint-faced liarface. So obviously I offered to give him some reccs, if he was interested – <em>stupendous </em>works of a titty nature, by the way – and he got offended. Detention is that Thursday, sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Dulcie laughed, and not in a mocking way. As usual, she seemed genuinely delighted by Gideon’s idiotic story behind why she couldn’t make it to her friend’s art show. Gideon smiled to herself as she pushed Dulcie’s chair through the hall.</p><p> </p><p>“I understand, Gideon,” Dulcie said gently. “You know you can see my work anytime. It doesn’t have to be at the art show.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but I still feel bad. Maybe I’ll just skip detention.”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Dulcinea’s voice suddenly grew sharp. “This is absolutely not worth a month of detention. I forbid it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jeez, I was joking. But noted,” Gideon turned her attention to a hulking football player loitering in the middle of the hallway as anyone with any sense shuffled aside to make way for them. “Hey! #CripBros coming through! Move it!”</p><p> </p><p>The dude turned with his mouth open, clearly ready to throw hands if needed, but shut up and moved aside when he saw the tiny blonde in a wheelchair being pushed by a big redhead with a slight limp. True to form, Dulcie thanked him politely as they went by.</p><p> </p><p>“You know,” she said a moment later. “we aren’t really Crip Bros anymore, since your MCL is healed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mostly healed,” Gideon corrected. “And I’ll always be your Crip Bro, Crip or not.”</p><p> </p><p>Dulcie hummed. “It’s appreciated.”</p><p> </p><p>Gideon stopped in front of Mr. Quinn’s classroom door and walked around so she could face Dulcie. “You all set?”</p><p> </p><p>Dulcinea nodded and took her bag from Gideon’s outstretched hand. “Thanks, Gideon. You’re going to class, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep,” Gideon stifled a complaint about how pointless statistics was. Dulcie was weirdly adamant about Gideon’s academic career. She held the classroom door open as Dulcie wheeled herself inside. “See you at lunch?”</p><p> </p><p>“Bye!” she called back. Gideon gave her a thumbs up and turned to the hallway.</p><p> </p><p>The second period bell rang as she rounded the corner, still a solid five-minute walk from the statistics classroom. Gideon swore, but didn’t walk any faster. One more detention wasn’t going to screw up her life in any significant way.</p><p> </p><p>Her phone buzzed suddenly in her pocket. Was it possible Dulcie knew she was late to class? No way, Dulcinea would never text in Mr. Quinn’s room. Gideon pulled the phone out and glanced down to find a text from Coach.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Got the game field hashes repainted. See you at 3:30.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Gideon grinned. Things were going surprisingly well for the Cavaliers lately – Gideon was back in action, they were getting more mindful about positioning, little things that used to be problems seemed to suddenly fade away. Even Harrowhark had been somewhat helpful, occasionally noticing things Gideon and Aiglamene couldn’t see and writing them down to discuss later. It was… good. Things were good.</p><p> </p><p>Pausing only to send a quick response to Coach, she kept walking, only to stop again at a randomly placed vending machine. She didn’t have any spare change, but sometimes just <em>looking</em> at the Flaming Hot Cheetos inside made her happy – sue her. Then she heard a familiar angry voice wafting from the other side of the hallway. Looking around, Gideon was surprised to find herself staring directly at none other than Harrowhark Nonagesimus herself.</p><p> </p><p>Harrow was storming down the hall toward Gideon with purpose, so focused on whatever she was doing that it was clear Gideon’s presence hadn’t been detected even when she was only ten feet away. She was whisper-yelling into her cell phone, head down and shoulders tensed in quiet fury.</p><p> </p><p>“—no <em>you</em> listen to me, I don’t care what those vampires from the insurance company say. My parents need help and I hired you as their advocate. I will not accept— fine. We’ll talk later. I have to go anyway.” Harowhark hissed and shoved her phone in a dark pocket. Then she finally noticed Gideon.</p><p> </p><p>“Uhh,” Gideon said awkwardly, looking around the empty hallway for something to distract her, to make it clear she totally wasn’t eavesdropping on what was probably a very private conversation. Nothing helpful appeared. “Sorry. I wasn’t listening, I just—”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t see you,” Harrowhark said quietly. She looked like a viper getting ready to strike and Gideon didn’t like it one bit. “What are you even doing here?”</p><p> </p><p>For someone who needed them pretty often, Gideon had never been great at coming up with excuses on the fly. This fact continued to be painfully true. “Um. I was— getting a snack.” She turned back toward the vending machine, realized she still didn’t have any money, and continued staring at the Cheetos longingly.</p><p> </p><p>Harrowhark sniffed, which made Gideon turn back around, praying to anyone who would listen that the other girl wasn’t <em>crying</em> right now. Nope, not crying – just being her usual snooty self. She could totally tell Gideon was lying.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, yeah, I wasn’t getting a snack. I just like looking at them sometimes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Griddle, could your life <em>be </em>any more pathetic?”</p><p> </p><p>On any other day, Gideon would have fired back with her own insult. But Harrow seemed… off. Like that phone call had shaken her and some of the sharp, pointy objects that usually protected her feelings had come loose and fallen to the floor. Gideon’s knee twinged helpfully, reminding her of the charitable Ibuprofen Harrow had given her just two weeks ago. So Gideon tried something she had never intentionally used before: tact.</p><p> </p><p>“Harrow. Are you… okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Harrow practically spat, like Gideon had just accused her of eating puppies.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m— just, uh. That sounded serious.”</p><p> </p><p>“It was none of your business, and you would do very well to remember that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I know, but you helped me out with the Ibuprofen so I was— if you need anything—”</p><p> </p><p>“Nav.” Harrow’s voice was cold and sharp. “If there is ever a time in my life where things are going <em>so </em>poorly that I ask for help from the likes of <em>you</em>, please ensure I suffer a quick death.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Screw this</em>, Gideon thought nastily. “There’s no need to be a dick about it, I was just—”</p><p> </p><p>“I do not need your <em>pity</em>, Gideon Nav.” Harrowhark sneered. “Not from a future gas station attendant who would be <em>lucky </em>to get accepted into the military to clean their toilets. You have no family, no future, and no worth beyond your ability to catch a ball with a stick. Don’t you dare pity me.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Fuck you</em>.” Gideon snarled, then she clenched her fists and charged.</p><p> </p><p>All things considered, Gideon got lucky. Lucky she didn’t have her lacrosse stick in her hands, or she would’ve broken Harrow’s entire body bone by bone. Lucky her hair was short, because Harrowhark was tiny but she fought <em>dirty</em>. And most of all, lucky that they were found by the stern but fair Vice Principal instead of some other asshole teacher.</p><p> </p><p>Despite all these lucky breaks, it still wasn’t looking good. By the time Ms. Dyas tore them apart Gideon could tell her nose was about to start bleeding and she was sporting several bite and scratch marks (cheating little <em>bitch</em>). Even worse, she knew she was facing down a suspension, which was bad news because that meant she couldn’t play. Coach was going to have a <em>conniption</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“What in <em>God’s </em>name is going on here?” Ms. Dyas shouted, standing between them with her hands outstretched. Gideon wiped blood from her nose with a shaking hand and avoided the question by examining one of the nastier bite marks on her forearm. “Nav, I thought you were done with these ridiculous behaviors. Nonagesimus, I expected much better from you. Explain.”</p><p> </p><p>“She <em>attacked </em>me.” Harrow whined. Gideon grinned as she looked up and noticed the other girl was definitely developing at least one black eye.</p><p> </p><p>“Nav?”</p><p> </p><p>“She called me worthless and said I’d be cleaning toilets.”</p><p> </p><p>Ms. Dyas sighed so hard Gideon was pretty sure her soul left her body. “Did you attack her?”</p><p> </p><p>“She insulted me! And <em>bit </em>me. Who even does that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Principal’s office. <em>Now</em>.” Ms. Dyas started heading in the right direction, clearly intent on marching them there herself. Gideon wiped more blood off her face as it started dripping on the hallway’s ugly tile.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a fucking psychopath, Nonagesimus,” Gideon spat quietly, attempting to both follow Ms. Dyas and keep as much distance between herself and Harrowhark as possible.</p><p> </p><p>“Says the girl who just tackled me in a hallway because I called her <em>names</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was trying to <em>help</em> you—”</p><p> </p><p>“How many times do I need to say I don’t need your help?”</p><p> </p><p>Boiling rage welled all the way up to Gideon’s throat, and she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the things Harrowhark had said about her.</p><p> </p><p>*             *             *</p><p> </p><p>“Nav, if you were my kid I swear to God I would flay you <em>alive.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Coach.”</p><p> </p><p>“First you get benched for two weeks because you wouldn’t stop fouling no matter how many times I—”</p><p> </p><p>“Coach, that girl slide tackled me, it wasn’t my fault!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I’m</em> talking now. Then as <em>soon </em>as you get cleared you start a brawl in the middle of the hallway? With our team’s manager, no less? Because she said something <em>mean</em> about you?!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m <em>sorry</em>, okay—”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t give a shit how <em>sorry </em>you are! Your team needs you and instead of being there for them as a leader and a role model you’re, what, picking fights with anyone who looks at you funny? Months before you’re supposed to graduate? You can be thick sometimes, but I didn’t think you were <em>stupid</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m <em>not</em>—”</p><p> </p><p>“Then explain yourself, for Christ’s sake.”</p><p> </p><p>“Harrowhark, she—”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t blame others for your own mistakes, Nav.”</p><p> </p><p>“But Coach, she—”</p><p> </p><p>“What did I <em>just </em>say?”</p><p> </p><p>“Coach—”</p><p> </p><p>“Fifty laps. Right now. Then go home. I don’t want to see your face on my field again until you’ve sorted out this attitude problem.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Coach, </em>please—”</p><p> </p><p>“Get moving!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>these idiots, my favorite idiots, doing violent idiot things. amazing.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Three days. <em>Three bloody days</em>. 72 hours of fuming and shoving Pop Tarts in her face and daydreaming about all the gruesome things she wanted to do to Harrowhark Nonagesimus.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In theory, getting suspended from school sounded pretty dope. In practice, it was total bullshit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe <em>some</em> kids had a good time hanging out at home while they were suspended – probably because they had parents who were cool and allowed things like videogames and unrestricted WiFi in the house. John was not one of those people.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had taken her beloved stick, of course, with a look of apologetic sadness on his face so devastating it was almost worse than anger. If he had said, “this hurts me more than it hurts you,” as he locked the stick in a closet, Gideon would’ve packed her bags that very night. Instead, he had silently taken her stick, told her she was grounded, asked if she wanted a cup of tea, and said he was “there if she wanted to talk.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon slammed her bedroom door in his face and didn’t say a word. She had been glowering at her bedroom ceiling ever since.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The worst thing about all this, she had decided, was that (aside from hitting someone who <em>totally </em>deserved it) Gideon hadn’t really done anything wrong. Hell, she had been trying to help. And what had she gotten in return? Bitchy comments, bite marks, and banned from her favorite activity. These BS consequences were proof that nothing in this world was fair. No one person was worth risking whatever good things she managed to wrestle out of the messy, miserable muck that was her life. Even if that person was—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A soft knock at the door interrupted her moping.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Gideon?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Go away, John.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s been two days. You need to come out of there sometime.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No I don’t.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“…what if I brought you some myrrh?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon groaned. “—<em>please</em> don’t—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mur-dur!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“STOP!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Judas!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re not funny, asshole!” Gideon yelled through the door, grinding her teeth as she heard John chuckling like a sociopath on the other side. How, after seventeen years of foster placements, had she ended up with the weirdest, God-obsessed, dad-joke-infested idiot in the universe? “Leave me ALONE!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I won’t abandon y—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This isn’t about me feeling abandoned,” Gideon sincerely hoped he could somehow sense how hard she rolled her eyes. “I just want some goddamn <em>space</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hiding from your problems won’t get you back on the team, Gideon.” John’s voice was suddenly serious.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not off the team,” Gideon half-moaned, half-snarled. “I’m just benched for… a couple games or something.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I feel like you’re just arguing for the sake of arguing at this point.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m pissed off and I want to be alone.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John sighed. “Okay, I can respect that. Will you at least come out and eat some dinner tonight? It doesn’t have to be at the table.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“O thank ye, benevolent god,” Gideon didn’t mean to be such an asshole. She really didn’t. But it was hard when she was so <em>angry</em>. “Mayhaps I’ll take my porridge in the servants’ quarters?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t be a dick, Gideon.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That actually made her smile. Good to know John wasn’t always a robot. “Sorry. I might come out later for cereal or something. I have Pop Tarts in here, though.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If John wanted to say anything about how Pop Tarts weren’t even close to a proper meal, he didn’t. Which Gideon was incredibly grateful for. “Let me know if you need anything,” he said quietly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She was relieved to hear his receding footsteps a few moments later. As much as she hated his whole… everything, Gideon had to admit John was right about one thing: nothing she had done so far was productive. It was time to nut up or shut up. Figuratively speaking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon grabbed her cell phone (which was apparently not confiscated as part of her being grounded, possibly because John was an idiot who forgot teenagers had cell phones now) and took a deep breath. This might become the most embarrassing series of texts she ever sent, but hopefully it would be worth it. She could be angry, she could be humiliated, but she couldn’t be banned from lacrosse.</p>
<p>6:26 PM</p>
<p>
  <em>Hey spiderfucker.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>6:27 PM</p>
<p>
  <em>(Cuz you’re a creepy weirdo)</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>6:27 PM</p>
<p>
  <em>(Who probably wants to fuck spiders)</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>6:27 PM</p>
<p>
  <em>Anyway.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>6:27 PM</p>
<p>
  <em>I wanted to say I’m sorry for attacking you and stuff. Sorry.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>6:48 PM</p>
<p>
  <em>Do I have the right number? This is our emo lax manager, right?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>7:02 PM</p>
<p>
  <em>Fine, Harrow. You don’t have to answer me. But I’m not letting this dumb argument stop me from playing. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>7:13 PM</p>
<p>
  <em>We good?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>7:32 PM</p>
<p>
  <em>I feel like we’re good as long as you also ignore me on the field. And at school. And everywhere.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>11:06 PM</p>
<p>
  <em>We’re good.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrowhark could figure out her own shit – the important thing was that Gideon tried to make things right, and Coach couldn’t punish <em>her </em>for Harrow being an asshole. Satisfied for the first time in days, Gideon took screenshots of the text chain and immediately sent them to Coach. She fell asleep easily, convinced that by Monday everything would be back to normal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*             *             *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s time, Cavs!” Gideon yelled. A relieved sigh rippled through the field as the team spat out their mouthguards and tore off their goggles. As usual, Gideon jogged directly to Cam, who was already struggling to remove her goalie gear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks,” Cam said breathlessly after Gideon helped her with her helmet. “We need to master that man-down defensive action by Friday.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon grinned. “You know I’m always in for some man-down action.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is that a reference to you being queer or… murder?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Porque no los dos?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Camilla shook her head, but Gideon could see the hint of a smile beyond her dark hair. “Spanish class is going better these days, I take it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Spanish?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nav…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, Cam, it’s a meme—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hustle over, Gideon! I need everyone for a quick announcement.” Coach called from outside the gym door, not even bothering to look up from her clipboard. As usual, Harrowhark was hovering nervously nearby, waiting for someone to tell her what to do but not actually taking the initiative to do anything herself. Typical.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Over the last few weeks, Gideon and Harrow had ignored each other so dutifully it was like their own religion. Coach asked Harrow to pass out pinnies? Gideon grabbed one herself, thanks. Harrow was getting names down for the playbook? She carefully skipped saying Gideon’s every time, silently writing it down with nothing more than a tight-lipped glare. If Coach noticed this weird new dynamic in their already-fraught relationship, she didn’t say anything about it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Until today.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Come on, girls, I haven’t got all day,” Coach beckoned them all over impatiently. “Alright. Everyone here? Whatever. Nav, you fill in whoever’s missing—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes ma’am!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“—anyway. As you all know, the spring break tourney in Canaan is next week. Get your permission slips to me by the end of the day tomorrow or that bus is leaving you here alone all week playing pass with a brick wall. Remember you need all your gear, something nice to wear for the awards dinner, and whatever clothes and toiletries you’ll need to survive six days in a motel. If anyone has any questions direct them to Nav—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“—bad idea, Coach—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“—fair point, direct them to Nonagesimus. Speaking of which, Harrow will be handing out your rooming assignments. Two to a room, no the assignments are <em>not </em>negotiable. I don’t have time for arguments and I certainly don’t have time for all the paperwork I’ll need to do if any of you idiots does anything especially heinous during this trip, so I’ve made the assignments accordingly. See you all tomorrow.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow started passing out papers to everyone, easily sliding two sheets into Camilla’s hands so Gideon could get one. Gideon snatched the page happily, already planning ways to sneak down to the motel bar (which may or may not exist) with Cam and convince some unsuspecting MILFs to buy them drinks—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Gideon…” Cam said quietly, her eyes glued to the page she was clutching.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, don’t worry, I’m already thinking about what we’re gonna do. You got a slinky dress?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?” Cam finally looked up. She had a super weird expression on her face. “No, Gideon. <em>Look at your assignment</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon snatched the page from Cam’s loose fingers. She stared. And blinked. And gagged. <em>Harrowhark</em>?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What the actual <em>FUCK</em>?!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>bit of a short chapter here, but I just couldn't resist the comedic timing of a final "what the FUCK" from gideon lmao</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I <em>specifically</em> said I don’t have time for arguments and that the assignments were non-negotiable, Nav.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, but Coach—”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you know what non-negotiable means? It means no ‘but’ anything. The discussion is over.”</p><p> </p><p>“You also said ‘no heinous activities’ or whatever and making me sleep in the same room as Nonagesimus is a <em>war crime</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be so dramatic.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not fair, Coach! She— we— you <em>know </em>we’ve tried to kill each other like, at least three times.”</p><p> </p><p>“You are this team’s captain, Gideon. It is your duty to step up and do the things no one else will. Handle it.”</p><p> </p><p>“So I’m stuck bunking with evil!Janis Ian because everyone else hates her too much?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course not. It’s also because I’m not convinced you two actually made up after your little spat.”</p><p> </p><p>“I showed you the texts—!”</p><p> </p><p>“Texts aren’t enough. We are a <em>team</em>. And if two of you are fighting, or ignoring each other, or whatever else is going on there, the entire group's performance suffers.”</p><p> </p><p>“This is bullshit, Coach.”</p><p> </p><p>“You think your attitude is in check? Prove it. I want no trouble whatsoever while we’re in Canaan. Think you can do that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh.”</p><p> </p><p>“That wasn’t an answer.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine! Yeah, I’ll try not to drown her in the pool or anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good.”</p><p> </p><p>*            *            *</p><p>
  <strong> DAY ONE </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>In the flurry of chaos that exploded around them before the bus left for Canaan, Gideon completely forgot to be angry at Coach. In fact, she didn’t think about Harrowhark once, even as the other girl skulked uselessly one step removed while Gideon handled the logistics of getting a rowdy lacrosse team on a travel bus. This, Gideon thought to herself smugly in a moment of calm, <em>proved </em>that Gideon had “fixed her attitude about Harrowhark” or whatever Coach had said.</p><p> </p><p>They still sat on opposite ends of the bus, though. Just in case.</p><p> </p><p>“Gideon? Uhh, Captain?”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?” She hadn’t even realized she was spacing out. Also, no one called her <em>Captain</em>. “Sorry. What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Did you want to play Super Smash Bros. with us? Isaac lent me his Switch.”</p><p> </p><p>Gideon looked down at Jeannemary’s hopeful little face and grinned. “You’re on. I owe Beth an ass-kicking after last time anyway.” She craned her neck to figure out where Beth and her sister were sitting, spotting Beth’s stupid blonde 80s puff of hair easily among everyone else’s buns and ponytails. “BETH! Hey! Tridentarius! Super Smash! Me and you! Let’s goooooo!”</p><p> </p><p>Beth whipped around eagerly and beamed even as Ianthe glared, obviously butthurt that her precious reading time was being interrupted or whatever. “Get ready to get wrecked, Nav.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, I gotta check the rules set. Yep, that’s what I thought – which one of you noobs turned hazards off?”</p><p> </p><p>“No one says ‘noobs’ anymore, Gideon.”</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever. Keep the hazards on, losers.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nav, do you <em>always </em>choose to play as Lucina?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep. She’s the hottest.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you like her sword.”</p><p> </p><p>“…and I could beat ALL of you with literally any character, so I might as well pick the hot one with a sword.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em><span class="small">I believe her</span></em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Kirby</em>, Beth? Are you serious?”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s cute!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m totally gonna sweep the floor with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, so you’re the only one who gets to choose characters based on how hot they are?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>You think Kirby is hot</em>?!”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not what I meant—”</p><p> </p><p>“Hurry up and play, for Christ’s sake. I’m next.”</p><p> </p><p>“This is too easy—”</p><p> </p><p>“Why isn’t my hammer flip working?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re pressing A, not B.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks, Cam.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s almost <em>embarrassing</em>, Beth—”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up!”</p><p> </p><p>“HA!”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s game, match goes to #9, Gideon Nav!”</p><p> </p><p>Gideon took several exaggerated half-bows as Beth tossed her controller to Cam in disgust.</p><p> </p><p>The hours trickled by surprisingly slowly, time somehow elongating even as the team participated in all the best travel bus rituals. These included but were not limited to: divvying up every ounce of food they had, attempting elaborate braids on themselves and each other, and screaming increasingly nasty jokes across the aisles, ending in fits of deafening laughter that bounced off the bus’s metal walls. By the time Coach announced they were five minutes from Canaan it felt like they had been in the bus for days, not hours.</p><p> </p><p>“Whoa.” Cam said quietly, gazing out the window. Gideon leaned over her, craning her neck awkwardly to catch a glimpse of whatever the goalie was looking at.</p><p> </p><p>Canaan Regional High School was impressive as fuck. Not only because it was enormous and surrounded by greenery and made with some kind of white stone that seemed to literally sparkle; the school was weirdly imposing, like it had stood for centuries and wasn’t planning to allow itself to be knocked down any time soon, building codes be damned. And building codes might end up being a problem, because despite the obvious exorbitance of the building there was something… shabby about those white walls. The school must have faced some financial hardship recently and given up on its usual upkeep.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank God we’re not sleeping here,” Cam said breathlessly, not taking her eyes off the structure. “that place is <em>definitely </em>haunted.”</p><p> </p><p>A swoop of something like sickness assaulted Gideon’s stomach. She had managed to forget about her unfortunate rooming situation until now. “Hey, Cam…”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Camilla continued packing her stuff into her duffel without looking up.</p><p> </p><p>“Who are you bunking with again, when we get to the motel?”</p><p> </p><p>“Judith. Why?”</p><p> </p><p><em>Damn</em>, Gideon thought. Judith was pretty by-the-book. She was unlikely to be cool with defying Coach’s orders. “Oh.” she said softly. Gideon tried not to let her disappointment show on her face, but of course Cam could see right through her.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll be fine.” Cam said firmly, finally looking Gideon in the eyes. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”</p><p> </p><p>Gideon snorted. “I have done nothing stupid, ever, in my life.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, Cam – you’re supposed to say, ‘I know this and I love you.’”</p><p> </p><p>“Why? You do stupid stuff all the time.”</p><p> </p><p>Rolling her eyes, Gideon decided to let that one go. “Whatever. Honestly, I’m more worried that Harrow will do something to <em>me</em>. I’ve got a whole tourney to worry about, but who knows what kind of weird revenge plots she’ll be concocting in all her spare time?”</p><p> </p><p>“If you’re really that worried about it, sleep in the tub.”</p><p> </p><p>Gideon considered this. It actually wasn’t a bad idea. It would be mad uncomfortable and Harrowhark would probably mock her ceaselessly for being an untrusting little street urchin, but she could lock the bathroom door and feel confident that no one would sneak up on her while she slept and slit her throat or something. “Hmm.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know I would help if I could.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.”</p><p> </p><p>“But I actually think this might be good for—”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s go, ladies!” Coach’s yell interrupted whatever horrifying thing Cam had been about to say, thank God. Gideon leapt to her feet and dragged her gear to the front of the bus without another word. “Drop your stuff and meet in the lobby in ten! We’re headed straight to the fields after that to practice until dinner, so get changed if you have to.”</p><p> </p><p>Gideon practically sprinted to her room as soon as Coach handed her the little keycard. She didn’t see Harrowhark at all, thankfully, as she ripped off her sweatpants and hoodie and changed into her shorts and a ragged practice t-shirt. Gideon was back in the lobby within two minutes.</p><p> </p><p>Even though they were all drained from spending an ungodly amount of time on a bus and they weren’t on their home turf, it was one of the best practices the Cavaliers ever had. They were focused and excited, and every drill seemed to be executed flawlessly. Even Coach didn’t have anything bad to say by the end. Gideon stumbled back to the motel with the rest of the team with pleasantly aching limbs and a sleepy grin on her face. She was so tired and satisfied that she didn’t even notice if Harrowhark was in the room when she arrived. Instead, Gideon simply gathered all the blankets and pillows from one of the beds, heaped them into the bathtub, locked the door with a definitive <em>click</em>, and was catapulted into sleep almost immediately.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>y'all can find me <a href="https://twitter.com/jilljac05">on twitter</a> btw - all I do is share other people's TLT art and gay memes</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <em>DAY TWO</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>All things considered</em>, Gideon thought to herself, glancing desperately at the scoreboard, <em>losing by three wasn’t too bad</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Technically it wasn’t over yet – they still had two minutes on the clock – but deep down she knew they wouldn’t win this one. And that was fine. If she was being totally honest with herself, she wasn’t clocking in at 100% today, so she couldn’t exactly be mad at anyone else on the team for doing the same.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Coach wasn’t going to be so forgiving, though.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“CREASE!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon suppressed a groan as not a single one of her defenders followed Cam’s order. All of them hovered uselessly on the 8-meter, focusing way too much on the girl in front of them who happened to have the ball, not caring at all about the wing who hovered behind the net—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“COLLAPSE!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Well, that was good. Gideon nodded approvingly at Jeannemary, who was dutifully crossing her stick with Gideon’s to prevent the girl with the ball from going in for a shot. They separated again as the girl backed out to the 12-meter, clearly looking for a pass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“MARK UP! Man-to-man!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>About half of the defenders obediently pointed an open hand at an offender while keeping their sticks up and ready for a knock down. The other half weren’t moving at all. Gideon scanned their feet and snarled, “THREE SECONDS!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Two defenders leaped out of the arc like Gideon had personally set their cleats on fire. Satisfied that at least they wouldn’t get a penalty in the moment, Gideon signaled for one of the freshmen to switch with her. As Gideon turned to sprint toward their goal, her back and neck twinged with pain, causing her to stumble. That was all the offender behind the net needed – she cut from behind (Gideon was glad to see at least two of her defenders yell “CUTTING!” even though they couldn’t do anything about it), snagged a catch from the attack at the top of the arc, turned gracefully and made a shot before Gideon could do anything.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cam lunged. Too late. The crowd roared. Gideon dragged herself to her feet, panting. She looked to the bench, unable to meet Cam’s eyes. Coach was glaring. The whistle blew. “Time out!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As they all jogged to the sideline, Gideon made a point to keep her face blank. No denying it: this was at least partially her fault.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wings, nice job looking out for the off-sides this half. Communication is looking good out there, defense,” Coach said as they huddled up. To anyone else, the compliments were probably a welcome surprise, since they all knew they were going to lose. But Gideon knew Aiglamene too well by now. “Let’s try and get one more in there, attacks. Get water. Not you, Gideon.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fuck.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nav, do you need a sub?” Coach’s mouth was a furious line, but her eyes looked… worried?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you sure?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s less than two minutes, Coach,” Gideon replied, still refusing to look at her for more than a few seconds at a time. “I can do this.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s wrong? Is your knee acting up again?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, it’s—” Gideon grumbled, pushing sweaty hair off her forehead. “I didn’t sleep very well. It’s fine.” As if to punctuate this point with a further little “fuck you,” her neck spasmed with pain again. She winced.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hmm.” Coach shoved a water bottle in Gideon’s hands. “That can’t be a problem this week, Nav. Handle your shit.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, Coach.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As expected, they lost. But not before Ianthe managed to sink one last beautiful shot on the other team, making the score a respectable 6-8. Not that that mattered much, in the grand scheme of the tournament, but it was nice to leave the field with a shred of pride intact. At least, Gideon had <em>hoped </em>to be able to leave with pride. But of course that was before Harrowhark’s shadow fell ominously over Gideon’s feet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Looking up from where she was sprawled on the grass, relishing in how soft and warm the ground was compared to the porcelain bathtub, Gideon groaned as she saw Harrowhark’s pinched little face frowning down at her. “What do you want?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Aiglamene asked me to figure out what’s really wrong with you.” Coach’s name sounded weird as hell coming out of those thin lips. “But I’m pretty sure I already know.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon snorted and slumped back onto the grass. “You don’t know shit.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t I?” To Gideon’s horror, Harrowhark knelt beside her. “I know you’re a prideful imbecile who would rather sleep in a <em>bathtub</em> than tolerate being in the same room with me for more than is strictly necessary, even when doing so is clearly detrimental to your precious team.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well maybe if you weren’t such a midnight hagette, I wouldn’t have to worry about you murdering me in my sleep.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s idiotic and you know it. I’d never risk my legal freedoms by killing you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Very reassuring.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The point is,” Harrowhark settled onto her knees, clearly too much of a weakling to spend any considerable amount of time kneeling. “If you really care about winning this tournament, you need rest. Actual rest.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t know what I need.” Gideon rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself to her feet with considerable effort. “I’ll worry about my sleep schedule, you worry about your… creepy witch rituals or whatever you do at night.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am trying to help you, Nav.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah? Sorry, I thought the last time one of us tried to help the other I ended up benched. Kinda figures I don’t really trust your brand of help, don’t you think?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow actually looked a little surprised at that. She masked the feeling almost as quickly as Gideon noticed it, arranging her face into a shield of impassive nonchalance. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t try.” Without another word she rose and walked away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon stomped back to the bus alone, muttering to herself angrily the whole time. She <em>hated </em>when awful people were technically right.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>*         *         *</p>
<p>“Are you <em>kidding </em>me?!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon poked the mattress miserably, still not entirely believing what she was seeing. As if to confirm it yet again for herself, she glared up at the jagged hole in the ceiling. Water was still dripping halfheartedly from the crack, mocking Gideon with the sound of drops slapping against the soaked mattress below.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Of course. Of <em>fucking </em>course she would decide that <em>maybe </em>it would be tolerable to take one for the team (literally) and sleep in the same room as Harrowhark Nonagesimus, and the universe would be like, “Nope! Get fucked!” by causing a ceiling leak directly above her bed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Groaning to herself, Gideon was resigned to another night of failing to get comfortable in the tub – this was a problem for another day. She would go to bed early, at least, to try and get a few more hours of shitty sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*         *         *</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>DAY THREE</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon woke up dead.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or at least that’s what it seemed like. It was probably more accurate to say she felt as if someone had siphoned the energy from her very bones with a gigantic straw. And then ran her over with a truck. Several times.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Christ, Nav, didn’t I tell you yesterday to <em>handle your shit</em>?” Coach hissed at her at breakfast. “You look like hell.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon piled her plate with muffins and a yogurt that she seriously hoped wasn’t expired and grunted sullenly, her mind flitting through all the excuses she could use to explain why she slept in the tub again—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then she realized: <em>she didn’t need an excuse</em>. In this case, the truth was actually useful. “Coach, there’s a leak in our room! It dripped onto the bed, now we only have one. I’ve been sleeping in the tub because you <em>know </em>Harrowhark is too much of a prissy bitch to sleep anywhere else—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Stop.” Coach looked murderous, which was very confusing to Gideon. “Are you kidding me? You still haven’t gotten this through your thick skull, Nav? <em>I am not changing the rooming assignments</em>. This is possibly the weakest plot to get me to—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, Coach!” Gideon said desperately. “No, I swear, it’s the truth – come see –”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I said that’s enough.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“For fuck’s sake, I’m <em>not </em>trying to pull one over on you this time—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This time. And watch your language. Eat, take a shower, maybe drink some tea or whatever would help you stay alive to the world today. I’ll see you at the field in thirty.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was <em>such </em>bullshit. Fuming, Gideon shoved another muffin in her face and pointedly didn’t make eye contact with anyone, worried that Harrowhark was somewhere gloating from afar. Gideon could’ve kept pushing for Aiglamene to believe her, maybe dragged her bodily to the room to show her the dumb bed for herself, but if there was one thing Gideon knew about their coach it was that she was stubborn. And also completely unreasonable when she was angry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No, Gideon would need to find a new approach to get out of this situation. The way she saw it, she had three options: One, kick Harrow out of the bed. Two, talk to some of the people at the motel and see if there was anything they could do. Or three, risk incurring Coach’s wrath by convincing one of her teammates to let her bunk with them instead.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Option one would be the most satisfying, but also the most risky. Gideon would have <em>loved </em>to see the look on Harrowhark’s face as Gideon ordered her to sleep on the floor, but it was dangerous because there was no way to trust that Harrow (especially a furious Harrow) would refrain from attacking Gideon while she slept. Option two had <em>some </em>potential, but Gideon lost hope on that one as she glanced around the rundown motel. The only employee was a silent, hulking man who was probably in his late 60s and  (judging by how his eyes had barely left his crossword puzzle when they’d checked in, as well as the cup of coffee beside him that Gideon <em>knew </em>had been sitting untouched for their entire stay so far) didn’t give a fuck about anyone else anyway. This did not look like the type of place that would bring an extra bed to a room, and they certainly wouldn’t provide one for free. With Coach in charge of the trip’s finances, that option was obviously off the table.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Which left option three: appeal to her teammates. Cam and Judith were obviously out, so the next most logical alternative was—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh heyyyyy Beth!” Gideon cursed inwardly. Too cheerful. Even on her side of the conversation this sounded dumb as hell. Still, no going back now. She planted herself in the empty chair beside Beth and helped herself to a heap of half-cold scrambled eggs. “What’s up?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you want, Gonad?” Ianthe said sourly, barely looking up from where she was picking a bit of dirt from her prosthetic arm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon gritted her teeth to stop herself from snapping back. That one was actually kind of funny. Instead, she turned to face Beth. “Can I ask you a question?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What, another one?” Ianthe sniggered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I swear to fucking God, if you don’t shut up I’m going to punch you in the butthole.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Kinky.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you need?” Beth interrupted before Gideon could make good on her threat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, this is gonna sound wild—” Gideon started, speaking fast. “but my uh, bed in the room I’m sharing with Harrowhark, it’s—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“—too small and feeble for your nightly <em>gall on gall </em>activities?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“One more word, Ianthe—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“GIDEON NAV!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Shit</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Coach was making right for them, practically knocking over the lobby tables in her haste and rage. Gidoen jumped to her feet and tried to look innocent. “Coach—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know you weren’t just talking about what I think you were.” Aiglamene’s voice was low and dangerous, her eyes narrowed into a classic “don’t fuck with me” expression that Gideon knew only too well. Beth and Ianthe bolted. Cowards.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uhh—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“When I give you an instruction, I expect it to be followed.” Coach said, pursing her lips. “A player’s best quality is her sense of allegiance. And yet here you are, directly going against my orders, because you’re a dramatic baby who can’t handle the idea of being in the same room as someone you don’t like.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This is <em>not </em>about that, Aiglamene!” Gideon exploded. “I would do anything for this team, and you know it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you sure?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon blinked. That one stumped her. What was Coach getting at here?! “I mean, straight up prostitution is still pretty illegal, I think. Sex work is work and all that, but not—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fucking hell, Nav.” Aiglamene pinched the bridge of her nose like Gideon’s words had somehow given her a brain freeze. “Get your mind out of the gutter and do some genuine problem-solving, <em>for once</em>. You are the captain of this team. You attacked the team’s manager because she (a mean person) was mean to you. Your job now is to learn how to tolerate her. No tricks, no gimmicks – just get to a point where you can actually work together. Peacefully. A team with infighting to this degree is not a team at all.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I—” Gideon gulped. That sounded <em>way </em>worse than prostitution. “Okay. Yeah. I get it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good. You’re benched for the day.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you <em>kidding</em>—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Gideon, you’re barely upright. You’re more useful to me getting rest today so you can kick some ass tomorrow. Watch from the sidelines, come up with more suggestions for the team, scope out the competition. You know how important that is, so don’t give me any lip about feeling useless.” Without another word, Aiglamene turned and walked away, motioning for the rest of the team to follow.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm manifesting endless gideon/ianthe snark in AtN join me</p>
<p>also this is <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0xQJbA8VJGcefxP5RUxUbH?si=cnHHLpiYQ0y0A7h_UQQdSw">gideon's pregame warmup playlist</a> if anyone needed that, don't @ me over this kid's shitty taste in music</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gideon spent the day wandering between ongoing games with a notepad she had found on the desk in her room. She couldn’t help but feel a <em>tiny</em> bit relieved about this new assignment. Her eyes burned with the effort of staying open, and her neck felt like someone had come up behind her and repeatedly twisted it like a wind-up toy from hell. She had to admit Coach was right: nothing good would come of her playing today.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In an attempt to stay as far away from Harrowhark as possible (that was a problem she’d deal with at the last possible moment, thank you very much), Gideon spent most of her time watching games the Cavaliers were not involved in. The other teams were <em>good</em>, no denying that. On team in particular – Gideon didn’t catch their name, but it sounded like “lickers” or something equally stupid – was decidedly next level. They worked together so seamlessly, barely even needing to talk and just appearing to <em>know </em>what each of them was about to do, it was like they had been practicing together for ten thousand years. Gideon watched them in awe for about five minutes, decided they were dicks, and resigned to never beating them. Oh well.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She did get some useful information from some other teams, however. One group of defenders had a very cool play that she excitedly diagrammed in her notebook to explain to her freshmen later. After a few hours, she had several new ideas for drills, the beginnings of an offensive strategy, and a newfound hatred for writing things down. As she wandered back to where her team was packing up their stuff for the day, Gideon looked sadly down at her incoherent scribbles and hoped she could decipher it all when needed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We missed you today,” Cam said quietly, dropping beside Gideon on the bench. “Your defense is a mess without you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon groaned. That was the last thing a senior captain ever wanted to hear. “Sorry. How bad was it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nineteen to three.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Fuck</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Cam didn’t meet Gideon’s eyes. “Coach is pissed, of course, but hasn’t said anything yet. I think Harrow is trying—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What could <em>Harrow </em>possibly do about it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cam stared at her, unblinking. It was unsettling, and Gideon spent a fleeting moment wondering how she hadn’t gotten used to that well-used look by now. “She’s trying to convince Coach to move you to a different room. So you can sleep. And play tomorrow.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>What</em>?!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know,” Cam replied, finally looking away to start taking off her shin guards. “I overheard a part of their conversation. Sounded like Harrow felt a little bit… bad.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Baffling. Couldn’t be true. “Bad… for me? That’s stupid, I don’t need her pity—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No. Bad that we keep losing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now <em>that </em>was hilarious. Gideon openly laughed. “Yeah, right. Everyone knows Harrow doesn’t give a witch’s tit about this team, she’s just managing us for extra credit.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cam shrugged. “That’s not what it sounded like.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Weird. Super weird. But not Gideon’s problem. She was already solving the sleep situation on her own, being an obedient little captain just like Coach wanted. If she couldn’t change rooms and Coach didn’t believe that her bed was soaked (heh), there was only one option left: Kick Harrow out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And it seemed like that just got a lot easier, for mysterious reasons. But Gideon wasn’t one to look a gift miracle in the mouth, or whatever. She was exhausted from a full day of wandering around <em>taking notes</em> after no sleep the night before, and apparently just one angry conversation away from passing out in an honest-to-God bed for the night. She could do this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon said goodnight to the rest of the team immediately after dinner and walked back to her room. Opening the door with a sigh, she was already fantasizing about changing into sweatpants. Yeah, it would suck sleeping in a bed that Harrowhark had also slept in, but if she peeled off all the sheets and used a bunch of towels to—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Griddle.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jesus—!” Gideon jumped, grabbing the nearest object to use as a weapon, which turned out to be her lacrosse stick. Brandishing it aggressively, Gideon didn’t lower the stick even as she saw who had startled her. Creepy-ass night boss Harrow was standing in the middle of the room, somehow looming with all of her five-foot-one weeny height. “What are you <em>doing</em>?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Will you put that stick down?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Suit yourself.” Harrow sat primly in the squeaky office chair near the door. Gideon narrowed her eyes and walked fully into the room, still gripping her stick like a lifeline. She didn’t understand what was happening here but she knew she didn’t like it. As if to further confirm her suspicions that things were <em>bad, </em>Harrow said, “I have a proposition for you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Gross, did Aiglamene also try to have the prostitution talk with you—?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I said <em>proposition</em>, you tool, not prostitution—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon ignored this. “—because I told her this and I’ll repeat it at you: I’ll do anything for the team I love but I won’t do <em>that</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrowhark looked genuinely confused under all that disgust. “I’m sorry, are you suggesting--? No. Never mind. Listen to me, Nav, this is important.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“More important than you losing your virginity so Coach will get off my ass and we can start winning games?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you physically capable of being anything other than an insufferable fool or do you just act that way for fun?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fun, mostly.” Gideon smirked and dropped her stick, deciding that even if Harrowhark was a threat, she had no chance of taking Gideon in 1:1 physical combat. Well, not again anyway. Probably. As long as she didn’t bite. Pushing this thought away, Gideon sat on the floor and started ripping off her sneakers. “What do you want? I got a hot date with that bed, and you’re not invited. So say your piece and get lost. I hear the bathtub is comfy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow’s face crumpled in annoyance. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. The… sleeping arrangement is unsuitable.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, you’re telling me.” Gideon said with a scoff. “Look away, I’m taking off my pants. Don’t get too excited, you gotta pay to play.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrowhark rolled her eyes but dutifully turned around. “I’m not dignifying that with a comment—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“—which <em>is</em> a comment, of course—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nav. I’m serious.” Her tone was just a tiny bit desperate, which Gideon was not prepared for. She finished pulling on her sweatpants and sat on the bed. Springy and a little bit lumpy but definitely better than porcelain that smelled vaguely like mold. That’ll do, donkey.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You can look now. What’s your deal?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Turning back to face her, Harrowhark seemed to be struggling to figure out what to say, which was stupid because she had apparently been sitting alone in the room considering that for the last hour or so. “It has become clear that… our current arrangement isn’t working. You cannot continue to sleep in the bath and expect to play well in this tournament.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No shit, Sherlock. That’s why you’re <em>out</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I already tried—” Harrow took a deep breath. Apparently this conversation was more of a struggle for her than she had anticipated. “I have spoken to Aiglamene and she is unwilling to change the room assignments.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good on you for trying, but it’s a little late,” Gideon said bitterly. “I could’ve told you that a week ago.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But the fact that she won’t even recognize that your bed is completely out of commission? This— it’s ridiculous, Griddle, but we need to swallow our pride. I am trying to— help.” It had to be the most awkward sentence Harrowhark had ever uttered, judging by her expression.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wow, we actually agree on something.” Gideon meant to say it sarcastically, but her tone changed into something like surprise as the words fell from her lips. “Not that you’re trying to help – if you were trying that you’d be gone already. You’re right that this situation is ridiculous. Can you bugger off now?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know you’re exhausted,” Harrow’s brow knitted together. Was that… concern? Gross. “Take one side of the bed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A record scratch boomed through Gideon’s head. <em>What did she say</em>? “What did you say? <em>One </em>side?!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow’s bloodless face found a previously untapped reservoir that appeared as a tiny blush on the tops of her cheeks. “I need my sleep, too.” she said quietly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh <em>hell </em>no.” Gideon groaned. She was way too tired for this. “Big no. A one-way ticket to Nope City, no refunds.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t be so dramatic—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We are not <em>sleeping</em> <em>together</em>, Nonagesiumus—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sleeping in the same bed is not the same as—<em>that</em>—and if we want this team to be a true competitor this year we need to be in this together—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cool motive, still gross—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And you say <em>I’m</em> a prude,” Harrow sneered, but she was still blushing. “This does not need to be a big deal.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Except that it is. Because it’s <em>weird</em>. In a bad way.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Weren’t you just saying you would do anything for your team—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Key phrase: <em>but I won’t do that</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nav.” Harrow cleared her throat, as if there was something stuck in it. “<em>Gideon</em>. How can I make this any clearer? We are in this together. Believe it or not, I also care about this team. And you have to admit that when things are… good between us, the team does well. Better, at least.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon raised her eyebrows. That was technically true. After Harrow had given Gideon the ibuprofen… and they had had their little expedition in Harrow’s car… they had actually worked together for a couple of weeks, observing the team. Harrow had even helped fix Beth’s draw problem. And Gideon hadn’t been playing, but they had still won a few games… they certainly hadn’t lost any by <em>sixteen</em> points. Was it possible that Coach (…and, ugh, Harrow) was right, that as captain, Gideon had to work well with their manager if they wanted to win?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As much as she hated it, and <em>God</em> did she hate it, there was only one way to find out. “Fine.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fine?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“As in, ‘fine, we can try this.’ But no touching, no nudity, and if you start snoring I will smother you with your own pillow and sleep peacefully beside your dead body.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Noted. And same.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Also, <em>no one </em>can know about this.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Agreed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m serious, not a soul.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know what ‘no one’ means.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Also don’t hog the blankets.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow rolled her eyes. “Go to sleep, Nav.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nodding, Gideon pulled back the covers and settled in for the night. It was delightfully soft and warm, if she ignored the fact that at some point (thankfully after she was already dead to the world) Harrow would be climbing under the covers beside her. With the lights still on and Harrow still wandering around the room doing God-knows-what, Gideon crashed. Hard.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*         *         *</p>
<p>“What the—?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You were snoring, Nav.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So you smacked me in the face with a pillow?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was either that or strangle you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Give me back the covers.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You have most of them anyway.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t need that many – you’re like two inches tall.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Factually untrue.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can anyone tell me what <em>hyperbole </em>is?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Christ, does <em>no one </em>on this team appreciate a single goddamn pop culture joke? I was clearly impersonating Snape from A Very—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Go to sleep, Griddle.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>You</em> go to sleep, gloom mistress.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am <em>trying</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bathtub’s open.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You are the bane of my existence.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>You merely invented the dark. I was born into it</em>. Ha. Bane.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s not the quote.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh my god, you’ve seen <em>The Dark Knight Rises</em>?!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Everyone has seen that movie.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not enough times to be able to call someone out for quoting it wrong, you nerd.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you don’t shut up and fall back asleep – silently, this time – I will make good on my promise to smother you after all.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nerrrrrd.”</p>
<p>*         *         *</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>DAY FOUR</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon awoke peacefully for the first time all week. The sun wasn’t up yet, judging by the gray light filtering dimly between a gap in the flimsy curtains. Despite the early hour, she felt <em>rested</em>. Finally.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The problem now was that she didn’t want to move. She was so comfortable, curled on her side with one foot luxuriantly across the bed, heaped in a down comforter, with something warm and a little soft pressed against her arms—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Oh no.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon’s eyes snapped fully open. Trying not to panic, Gideon craned her head to get a better look at whatever was happening in her arms. Thin black pajamas stared back at her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck no.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon unraveled her arms from Harrow’s waist so fast she almost got a friction burn. How long had she been snuggling up to Harrowhark like she was her personal teddy bear?! Gideon rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling and just barely preventing herself from hyperventilating. Maybe she was lucky – Harrow probably wasn’t even awake yet. Without moving her head at all, Gideon looked to the side to catch a glimpse of the other girl’s face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow was also lying on her back. Stiffly, awkwardly. And staring at the ceiling.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“WHOA okay, <em>what</em>?!” Gideon yelled, leaping out of the bed. She stared at Harrow, mouth agape and eyes in danger of popping out of her head in horror. A century later, Harrow sat up, looking equally shocked and uncomfortable. If that was even possible.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t know what to do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So you… just let me <em>snuggle </em>you for the entire night?!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was only the last hour or so—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“AN HOUR?!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t know what to do! You needed to sleep!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“THAT IS SO WEIRD WHY WOULDN’T YOU MOVE.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why would <em>you </em>initiate a one-sided snuggle session with me in the first place? We specifically said no touching!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was too much for Gideon this early in the morning. Without another word, she pulled on a hoodie and fled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was bad. This was very, very, <em>very</em> bad.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>finally............ the Good Stuff</p>
<p>also it gives me GREAT pleasure to make gideon use shrek quotes because we all know she would be obnoxiously obsessed with shrek</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thankfully, the morning’s awkwardness (…<em>yeesh</em>) couldn’t keep Gideon down for long. Fueled by an entire night’s sleep, Gideon had a fresh sense of optimism about this tournament. Not that she thought they would win anything, but she did suddenly feel like maybe they could close the gap a bit with some less-than-monstrous losses.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Halfway through their first game of the day, it didn’t seem like the monster gap would be closed any time soon. At all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Beth, what is going <em>on </em>up there?” Gideon snarled as she jogged over the sideline (she had tried to make it into more of a genuine question, okay, she <em>really </em>tried). She had told herself not to worry too much about the scoreboard, but when the defense was finally doing well and their offense just <em>wouldn’t fucking score a single goddamn point</em> it was hard to make good on that promise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This isn’t Coronabeth’s fault,” Ianthe snapped, spitting her mouthguard venomously into her palm. “it’s that stupid freshman you made cover point – she can’t make a clearing pass to save her life—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jeannemary paled. Gideon raged. “Rule number <em>one </em>on this team is respect your teammates, Ianthe. If you’ve got a suggestion—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Respect your teammates</em> is a bit rich coming from the captain who punched our manager in the face—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That was a mistake and we are figuring our shit out off the field. It’s got nothing to do with <em>your</em> offense—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What if you just had someone else do the clearing passes?” It was unnatural to hear Harrow’s voice wafting up from beyond the clash of the huddle. “Gideon’s got a good arm.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…hearing her compliment Gideon was <em>way </em>less natural, though.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was an awkward silence. Everyone looked to Gideon for a reaction. Even Ianthe stopped herself mid-insult to gape. Gideon felt an inexplicable rush of pride bursting as a blush on her cheeks. “Uhh,” she said intelligently. “Thanks, Harrow. Yeah, I can make the clears.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A beat later, Beth saved them all from another awkward silence. “The draw is going well.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Definitely.” Gideon broke her eye contact with Harrow and turned her attention back to the rest of the team. Talking about lacrosse strategy was way easier than figuring out what was going on there. “And defense, we are <em>killing it </em>out there. Cam, how you feeling?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Very defended.” Cam said with a small smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cool. Jeannemary, you’re doing great at coverpoint. Clears are just one small part of that position, keep it up with everything else. How’s everyone feeling?” Gideon looked around at the rest of the team, looking for evidence of tiredness. Judith was slouching a little, but otherwise looked fine. Everyone else was expectedly sweaty and some were still breathing a little heavily. No one said a word. “Great. Let Coach know if you need a sub. Cam, you up for some shooting drills?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cam shoved her helmet back on and hefted the widened head of her stick enthusiastically. “Haven’t gotten to do much this game, let’s go.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sweet. Two-minute water break, then line up along the 12.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon wandered over to the bench and snagged a roll of athletic tape from the first aid kit. The tape at the top of her stick was fraying and needed some love. As she rifled through the kit looking for a pair of scissors (Coach <em>hated </em>it when she used her teeth), she looked up suddenly, feeling like she was being watched. Sure enough, Harrow was standing on the other side of the bench, staring at her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Si needs to take a break.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon stood up and considered Harrow carefully. “They didn’t’ say anything just now. They’ll tell us if they need a sub.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They won’t.” Harrow’s face was composed and serious, like she was giving an oral presentation in class instead of talking to one of her least favorite people in the world during a <em>sporting event</em>. Considering this, and all the other surprisingly helpful things Harrow had been suggesting for the team lately, Gideon decided to hear her out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why not?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You and Aiglamene always <em>say </em>players should ask for subs and take breaks,” Harrow said smoothly, her tone surprisingly nonjudgmental. “but the culture of the team looks down on people who actually take you up on that. Si is favoring their left arm, but they’d never tell you they need a sub.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s ridiculous.” Gideon said half-heartedly, already looking around for Si to see if Harrow was right. “I was just out with an injury for two weeks. Of course everyone knows they need to get a sub if they’re hurt.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You were out because a medical professional forced you to stop playing. You didn’t have to ask.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow had a point. “So, what, everyone on the team thinks we’ll all judge them for being weak any time they ask for a break?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Exactly.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hmf.” It was possible. How many times had Gideon pushed herself to keep running, keep practicing on shin splints and wonky elbows and blistered feet, keep playing no matter what the cost? Was that because she was a total badass, or because she was afraid of being the “weak” one? “Si, can you come here for a minute?” she called.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Si looked up from the Gatorade label they were reading and wandered over. “What?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you hurt?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Si’s already transparently pale skin somehow went even paler. “No.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s up with your arm?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s fine—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, your other arm.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh.” Si’s face seemed to fall. “I think I twisted it on the last shot, it’s—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t say it’s fine,” Gideon carefully kept the anger out of her voice. It was herself she was mad at, after all, and it wouldn’t be fair to take that out on her teammates. “I would much rather you take a break now, rest your arm, and have a useful arm for the rest of the year than win one stupid game. I’m gonna ask again: do you need a sub?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Si narrowed their eyes, clearly wondering if this was some kind of trap. “If Maggie comes in for me, that means no one else can have a sub.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then we’ll play man-down for a few minutes. No biggie.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay.” Gideon really hoped she was imagining the relief in Si’s voice. “I’ll sit out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Perfect. At the end of this game I’ll walk you over to see Canaan’s AT.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon paused before she headed out to run the shooting drill with the rest of the team. She looked to Harrow, who was trying to get Aiglamene’s attention in the coach’s box, with a new sense of appreciation. Coach was right after all: Gideon didn’t just need sleep to be a good captain, she needed an extra set of eyes, even if those eyes didn’t know lacrosse very well, at least the other person had fresh ideas for how to make the team better. If they were smart enough. And dedicated to winning. Gideon needed a manager, and she needed that manager to be Harrowhark Nonagesimus.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As if Harrow had overheard Gideon’s thoughts (God <em>that</em> was an awful idea), she turned suddenly to look at the captain. Gideon nodded and gave her a thumbs up, and in return got a teeny grin that was definitely more smile than smirk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They lost. But only by one point.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*             *             *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Coach surprised them with a celebratory dinner at Denny’s that night.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a surprise because Gideon knew for a fact that the team’s budget wouldn’t be able to cover the cost, which meant Aiglamene was paying for everything out of the goodness of her geriatric heart. Possibly even more surprising was Coach’s reason for the celebration: they had lost both games of the day, but according to Coach, “played well and worked like an actual goddamn team” so Denny’s was in order.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As she shoved the remnants of Cam’s Grand Slam into her face (after finishing off her own, of course), Gideon found she couldn’t stop smiling. With only one more day in the tournament and zero wins, they had no shot at making it into the semi-finals – but with two months left in the season they might be able to get to playoffs this year. If they kept improving. If they carried this momentum through the regular season.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the whirlwind of pancakes, laughter, praise, and one hilarious “who can make the dirtiest joke with whipped cream and sausages” contest that only Gideon and Ianthe really participated in, Gideon almost forgot about how much she was dreading going back to the motel. Almost.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>True to form, Harrowhark was the only one who didn’t seem to be having a good time at Denny’s. She ordered some kind of fruit cup and a water, which she picked at occasionally while staring silently at the rowdy lacrosse players around her. Feeling inexplicably guilty, Gideon moved to sit beside her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow jumped as if someone had goosed her. “Yes?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You just look miserable, which should be considered a crime when you’re given free breakfast and surrounded by a bunch of total babes.” Gideon punctuated this comment with a cocky grin and impressive (she hoped) bicep flex.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow simply rolled her eyes and stabbed piece of melon with her fork. “We didn’t even win.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So it seems a bit ridiculous to be celebrating, doesn’t it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Winning isn’t everything,” Gideon replied astutely. “for example, bacon exists. And sometimes people give it to you for free. Did you want some? You look like you could use the cholesterol. Or at least the calories. Or joy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m a vegetarian.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh,” Gideon was stumped by this. Good for Harrow for being healthy and caring about the planet and whatever other reason she had for that choice, but Gideon’s life had taught her exactly one fact about food: if it was there, you ate it. “Sorry. I didn’t know. They probably have like… Beyond Bacon by now or something, right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How do you know about <em>Beyond</em>?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“John—uh, my foster parent guy— is obsessed with that shit.” Gideon scoffed before catching herself. “Whoops. I mean, it’s not shit. Just not my thing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Right.” Harrow eyed her carefully, but not in an appreciative way. Gideon frowned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are we—?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I need to go.” Harrow said suddenly, already starting to edge out of the booth. “I have homework.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Go?” Gideon said blankly. “Like, back to the motel?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, to the International Space Station.” Harrow said sarcastically, pulling on an enormous black coat that made her look like a skeleton being swallowed by a fat nun. “Bye.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wha—?” Gideon struggled to also leave the booth, but she got tangled up in her stick. Damn, maybe she shouldn’t carry it everywhere. “Wait, Harrow, what about—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Harrow said ominously, then disappeared out the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tomorrow…?” Gideon was baffled. Not only because Harrow had walked off into the night alone a mile away from their motel, but also because she still didn’t know how they were planning to resolve the bed situation. Had Harrow found a different place to sleep? Was crashing beside Gideon really so bad? Yeah, she had broken the “no touching” rule but obviously that had been a total accident and—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Gideon?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cam’s voice cut sharply through the roiling mass of anxiety in her brain. But Gideon still had to ask, “Where is she going?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who, Harrow?” Cam said, looking away from Gideon to stare at the door. “Who knows. Anyway, turns out Beth can make <em>anything </em>come out her nose and it’s both impressive and disgusting.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cool.” Gideon turned back to the table, but her thoughts lingered on who had just walked out the door. She would deal with that later, if needed. Right now: she was with her team, and they were having fun.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*             *             *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Gideon had half-expected, half-dreaded, she got back to an empty room at the motel. Trying not to panic (Harrow was technically an adult and was fully capable of taking care of herself, even alone at night in a strange location), Gideon took a deep breath as she dropped her duffel at the end of the bed. The bed which, as it turned out, was covered in scraps of paper. Gideon recognized Harrow’s spidery little handwriting immediately, and she hated that about herself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>I have decided to sleep elsewhere tonight. The bed is yours. DO NOT come and find me.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Alright, that was weird for a number of reasons. First on Gideon’s mind was why in God’s name Harrowhark would <em>willingly</em> sleep somewhere else, effectively sacrificing her sleep for Gideon’s.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>DO NOT go to Aiglamene about this. She has enough to worry about.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon scoffed. Like Coach would believe any of this was happening anyway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>DO NOT go through my belongings. I will be back early tomorrow for them.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Back?!</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>I am sorry for this morning’s awkwardness. Truly</em>
  </strong>
  <strong>. </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well that’s fucking stupid.” Gideon crumpled the notes and tossed them into the trash. Hadn’t Harrow <em>just </em>yelled at her about both of them needing sleep? And then proved she was right by actually being helpful at the games today?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No. This wasn’t gonna fly. Gideon wouldn’t let a little awkwardness get in the way of helping her team. She’d find Harrow and <em>make </em>her get a good night’s sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She’d find a less creepy way to say that later. For now, she had to find Harrow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon was halfway through a mental list of all the gothic, weirdo places Harrow might be able to find to hang out when that issue solved itself: There was an echoing <em>clunk</em> in the bathroom followed by several whispered curses. Shaking her head in resigned surprise, Gideon walked to the closed door and knocked sharply.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Harrow?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Go away.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t be stupid.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll sleep here tonight. You did it twice, it’s only fair.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, and how did that end up?” Gideon rubbed her forehead. How was Harrow – the top of their class by a mile and winner of every Science Fair since before Gideon could remember – this much of an idiot? “Come on, Harrow, you said it yourself – we <em>both </em>need to be on top of our game. Get out here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can handle a night without sleep. Several, in fact.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Literally what did I <em>just </em>say?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’ll figure it out. Go away.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon pursed her lips. If talking sense wouldn’t work, she’d have to get creative. “I have to pee.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Find somewhere else. We happen to be residing in a building full of toilets. Lucky you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My toothbrush is in there.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have never <em>once </em>seen you brush your teeth, Nav.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tonight I’ve decided to do that. I’m a changed woman.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Even for you, this excuse is weak.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damn Harrow and her selective smartness. Gideon furrowed her brow and looked around the room. Her eyes settled on the dark pile of Harrow’s belongings, neatly contained in a faraway corner of the room. She had an idea. “Well, if I can’t use my toothbrush, I guess I’ll just have to use yours. Which pocket do you—?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The bathroom door swung open faster than Gideon could finish the sentence. Harrow was already wearing her little emo pajamas along with a furious scowl. “Don’t you dare. Not only is that entirely unhygienic, I also <em>specifically </em>warned you not to go through my things.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Got you to come out, though, didn’t it?” Gideon said with a smirk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow rolled her eyes and stalked past Gideon to her pile of stuff, already checking it over to ensure nothing had been disturbed. “You’re lucky I haven’t found a more suitable location to store my things yet.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s wrong with the bathroom? Not that I’m trying to get you to stay in there. Obviously.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s filthy, Nav.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So is the tub.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s different.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So crashing in a disgusting, not-even-a-little-bit-soft bath is somehow more doable to you than the idea of sleeping next to me again?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“As a matter of fact, yes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon rolled her eyes. “You’re such a drama queen. We’ve both slept in worse circumstances and you know it. Snuggle up, bitch.” Harrow blanched before Gideon realized her mistake. “Oh, sorry – I won’t snuggle you again, okay? We’ll put up a pillow wall or something.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow pursed her lips, clearly weighing the pros and cons of such a scenario. “Fine. But only because I don’t trust you to be alone with my things.” She glared at Gideon as if sizing her up. “We also have to do something about your snoring.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just wake me up, that worked last time. And if that doesn’t work, go ahead and call my name and save me from the dark.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The teeniest tiniest smile flickered across Harrow’s face. “Evanescence?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know it, babe.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t call me babe.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know it, Tenebrous Overlord.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow’s eyes glinted almost joyously. Gideon refrained from making a comment about finding one of Harrow’s kinks. Instead, she pushed past Harrow to grab her toothbrush. Harrow moved to stand silently near the bed, clearly trying not to draw attention to herself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A few minutes later, Gideon was surprised to find Harrow standing in the exact same spot as she exited the bathroom. “What are you doing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I—” Harrow bit the inside of her cheek. “It felt like it would be… strange, getting into bed and then just waiting for you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Aww, you want us to go to bed <em>together</em>, Nonagesimus! Like an old married couple!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That is <em>not</em> what I meant and you know it.” Harrow said sharply, ripping back the comforter. “Help me build the pillow wall.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why are you so against receiving my sweet, sweet loving, Harrow?” Gideon crooned, but she moved to place the pillows like Harrow had suggested. “Worried I’ll make you a dyke?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m bisexual, you cretin.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh. Whoops. “I knew that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow made a sound that was something between a chuckle and a snarl, which Gideon would not have thought was a real sound before she heard it. “Doubtful. Only the people I’ve been with know that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon did the tactful thing and ignored that comment. It was all tact, definitely not dumbstruck confusion.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As they both climbed beneath the blankets at the same time (yeah, Harrow was right – it would’ve been weird to do this while another person was already <em>there</em>), Gideon considered Harrow’s bisexuality. In a totally normal, platonic way, of course. But what exactly did “been with” mean? Had Harrow dated people before? Had she kissed anyone? Or even… gone further?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yeah, Gideon knew that made her sound like a kid. But the truth was, for a girl who watched and read a <em>lot </em>of porn, Gideon actually hadn’t done much. She and Dulcie had made out once before deciding they were definitely just friends, and Gideon and Beth had touched each other’s boobs on a dare when the lacrosse team got drunk after junior prom last year, but all things considered Gideon was a lot less experienced than any of her friends. She’d love to say it was because boys were extra horny (not true, Gideon was a bonafide horndog and <em>proud</em>, thank you), or because their school wasn’t accepting of queer relationships (nope, almost everyone Gideon knew was gay), but the truth was that Gideon was just… shy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon knew to anyone else that would sound ridiculous. Everyone in the world knew Gideon Nav was a loudmouthed, extroverted, confident class clown. She was the one who became a sixth grade legend when she challenged their principal to an arm wrestling contest and <em>won</em> to get everyone an extra recess. There was no one in the universe who would describe Gideon as “shy.” Except Gideon.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The idea that <em>Harrowhark </em>– the modest, religious, emo kid who was at best known for her GPA and at worst known for being a little bit of a creep – was getting it and Gideon wasn’t, that was almost too much to think about. And it certainly wasn’t anything she wanted to think about while lying in bed beside the other girl.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shoving away all her thoughts about Harrow’s sexual exploits, Gideon rolled onto her side and stared at the blank wall. Beside her, Harrow’s breathing was just a little too slow. She was clearly pretending to be asleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Harrow?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sorry I punched you in the face.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You already said that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, but now I <em>mean </em>it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You must be incredibly starved for positive attention, Nav,” Harrow’s voice was strained, but not sharp. “if all it takes for you to truly apologize is a person with a pulse lying beside you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon laughed. “It just wasn’t the same with people who don’t have pulses.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Did Gideon imagine the snort of mirth that came from the other side of the bed? “I’m sorry I said you have no future.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Whoa</em>. “Uh. Thanks. It’s okay, though – the military probably doesn’t want a mouthy lesbian ex-lacrosse player.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is that all you see yourself as?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m loud and gay and good at lacrosse so… yeah. Duh.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You are also—” Harrowhark stopped herself. She cleared her throat. “More. Good night.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Also what?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m going to sleep.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>More?</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <em>DAY FIVE</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The pros: Gideon slept like a rock. She was well-rested and ready to kick some ass. And best of all: when she woke up she wasn’t inexplicably snuggling Harrowhark Nonagesimus.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The cons: Apparently Gideon and Harrow were entirely incapable of sleeping beside each other (alright, yeah, Gideon could hear now insane that sounded now) without things being awkward the next day.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The small, unfamiliar space of the motel room did nothing to make the weirdness any easier. Both of them seemed equally committed to an implicit agreement where they didn’t speak, didn’t make eye contact, and didn’t exist within ten feet of each other unless absolutely necessary. Gideon very nearly called it quits and resigned to simply playing lacrosse in her pajamas sans deodorant after she and Harrow barely avoided their fourth super-weird encounter of the morning. Because in a motel room that was only 300 square feet total, staying ten feet away from each other at all times was actually impossible.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, sorry did you need to—?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, it’s fine, you go—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon froze and Harrow did the same. They were face to face in the door frame between the bathroom and main space, staring at each other like a pair of cats who had just caught the other one about to knock a glass off a table and weren’t entirely sure if one of them would turn out to be a narc. Gideon, who had just finished drying her face when Harrow appeared at the door, cleared her throat. Her mind was yelling at her to just step aside, let Harrow pass, so why the fuck wasn’t her body obeying the command? A myriad later, she at least got her vocal cords to work like they should. “Sorry. I can—"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I just need to use this for a moment.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This had to be somewhere in the list of top five worst times of Gideon’s life, and that was saying something. Especially considering that last night she had slept beside—</p>
<p> </p>
<p> <em>Nope</em>, Gideon thought to herself suddenly. <em>No time to go down that rabbit hole, you’ve already been standing in the doorway staring at each other for several endless lifetimes</em>—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yep. Yeah. Sorry.” Gideon backed up quickly so Harrow could come in. Then realized that she was trapped. Harrow squinted at her for a moment, clearly just as confused as Gideon was about why they were <em>both now standing in the bathroom together for no good reason</em>. “Uhh—"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can you— uhm, I need the toilet—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yeah, this was officially the worst day ever. Gideon’s entire head felt like it was on fire, she was blushing so hard. “Duh. Yeah, I’m out. I’ll come back later.” Without another word (or a single glance at Harrow’s undoubtedly smug little face), Gideon sidled past the other girl and ran into the motel’s hallway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding as soon as she collapsed on a worn armchair in the lobby. She rested her face in her hands and bemoaned her inability to just <em>be a fucking normal human being</em>. Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately) she didn’t have the chance to elaborate more on this, even in her own head, because suddenly someone was perching themselves <em>very intrusively </em>on the armrest of her chair. Gideon pulled her head up to give the person a proper glare. The effort wasn’t wasted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Trouble in paradise?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck off, Ianthe.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ianthe had the audacity to look offended. “No need to get aggro. I merely came to offer my support.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Like hell,” Gideon scoffed, getting up to move to a chair that Ianthe wasn’t draping herself over. “If you’re here to help me then I’m a space cowboy. Nah, you just want intel for <em>gossip</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ianthe sighed. She somehow managed to make even that simple noise sound patronizing. “You really are as stupid as you look, Nav.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why is everyone on this team under the impression that insulting me is the same as helping me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Because sometimes it is,” Ianthe said in a voice she probably thought was very mature and wise. She got up and moved across the room, again planting herself on the armrest of the chair Gideon had claimed. Apparently a losing battle, there. “Anyone who has spent even a modicum of time with your stupid ass knows that you won’t accept unsolicited help, so people like me have to sneak it to you if we want anything to change.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So you’re roofie-ing me with helpfulness? Neat.” Gideon said sarcastically.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not anymore I’m not.” Ianthe sighed again. “You’re <em>such an amazing sleuth </em>so I suppose now I’ll have to be blunt: Fix whatever is happening between you and Harrowhark, for real, so this team can actually make it to playoffs. If that requires my assistance, so be it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon felt a sudden desire to pick up her stomach and her jaw, both of which had apparently dropped out of her body and onto the floor. “<em>Why</em> is everyone so convinced that a) Harrow had I have something going on and b) us getting along will get this team to playoffs?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Because it’s true. Unfortunately for the rest of us.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Harrow’s not even a player. And there are eleven other people on the team – and they actually touch the ball that gets us to playoffs.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But <em>you, </em>very unfortunately named our captain, play better, and strategize better, with her help.” Ianthe pushed her colorless hair out of her face and sniffed, like what she’d said was giving her a cold. “Also a blind shark could tell that there’s <em>something going on </em>between you and Harry.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Something red and throbbing buzzed in the back of Gideon’s mind, threatening to break into the edges of her vision. “You don’t know dick about me or my life.” she growled. “Keep talking and I’ll give you something to sniffle about, fucktruck.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did I strike a nerve?” Ianthe said loftily. Gideon wanted to wipe away the wry smile that appeared on her face with a chainsaw. Maybe she was smart enough to tell that Gideon was making some very specific murder plans, because Ianthe’s next move was to raise her hands in a gesture of quiet surrender and say, “Calm down. Like I said, I want to help. And at this point—” Ianthe looked markedly at the deserted lobby around them. “—I’m your best, possibly only, resource.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon laughed, injecting as much scorn as possible into the sound. It probably wasn’t very scornful, but whatever. “It’s gonna be a no from me, dawg. I could probably get better relationship advice from Craigslist.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you’re going to attempt being mean, can you at <em>least </em>update your references?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure. How’s this one for you?: Bye, Felicia.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Thinking she was incredibly clever, Gideon walked away without another word. She was pissed off and also had just realized she’d left her stick in the room. Hoping that Harrow was far away doing goth girl shit on her own, Gideon gloomily made her way back to the room, grateful that at least awkwardness with Harrow was <em>slightly </em>more bearable than open mockery from Ianthe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*             *             *</p>
<p>“Harrow?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon poked her head inside the door of their room and gave everything a cursory glance. So far, so Harrow-less.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you in here?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nada. After double checking the bathroom to make sure Harrow wasn’t planning to pull a <em>Psycho</em>-esque shower stunt, Gideon sighed with relief. She was alone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon took a moment to thank her lucky stars that today’s game would be so late in the day – and most likely their last of the tournament. Weird. She had never actively wanted to play less lacrosse. Stopping a moment to internally examine whatever was happening <em>there</em>, Gideon thought maybe all those people were right: maybe this did have something to do with Harrow after all. Ugh. Once again, not the time or place to figure that shit out. Gideon shook her head to clear it and walked to the section of wall she placed her stick against each night.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The stick wasn’t there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Pushing her useless panic into the bottom of her stomach where it belonged, Gideon leapt over the bed to see if the stick had fallen and couldn’t get up. Nope. It wasn’t under the bed, nor was it behind the dresser, under the little desk, or in the bathtub. Actually, legitimately starting to freak out now, Gideon made a beeline for the tiny heap of darkness that constituted Harrow’s belongings.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If hindsight was a thing Gideon cared about, she would admit that what she did next was certifiably stupid. Obviously (in hindsight) the stick would’ve stuck out like a sore thumb in that dark pile, and it was definitely too big to fit in Harrow’s bag. In “Panicking Lacrosse Captain Can’t Find Her Most Prized Possession and She’s Worried Her Lifelong Enemy Did Something Mean (Again)”-sight, logic was out the window and Harrow totally definitely hid her stick in her bag and probably did something Bad to it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was the solid “reasoning” behind why Gideon was tearing through Harrow’s belongings like a wild animal, throwing black clothing and books around with reckless abandon, if anyone cared to ask about Gideon’s reasoning. When she got to the bottom of the bag, Gideon saw something that made her (<em>temporarily</em>, like, just for a few moments) forget about her missing stick.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon didn’t know why she stopped to look at this particular scrap of paper. She had thrown plenty of notebooks, homework, and sheets of scribbled writing around the room already – there was something about this piece of paper that made Gideon think it was intended to be <em>hidden</em>. It was folded at least six times and tucked away at the bottom of the bag, and that was enough for Gideon. If Harrow was planning creepy shit, that only confirmed Gideon’s suspicions about what an untrustworthy little weirdo Harrow had always been. She opened the paper with an inexplicable pit in her stomach and began to read. At first the words were jumbled in her mind, her anger and panic clouding her ability to process written words. Then the letters formed into understandable fragments and Gideon’s brain finally started piecing them together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>SI OCTAKISERON</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<ul>
<li><strong><em>Exclusive focus on scoring, to the detriment of everything/everyone else</em></strong></li>
<li><strong><em>What athletic types call a “ball hog”</em></strong></li>
<li><strong><em>Paranoid and suspicious of everyone (except their cousin, Colin/something? Use that??)</em></strong></li>
</ul>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>CORONABETH TRIDENTARIUS</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<ul>
<li><strong><em>False confidence – imposter syndrome?</em></strong></li>
<li><strong><em>Codependent attachment to twin sister (Ianthe)</em></strong></li>
</ul>
<p> </p>
<p>Well, all of that was rude but technically true. Still not entirely sure what she was looking at, Gideon continued reading frantically. Then two words in particular jumped out at her:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>GIDEON NAV</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What the <em>actual</em> fuck.” Gideon rubbed her eyes, willing her brain to calm down for a second so she could just <em>focus</em>. With a deep breath, she squinted at what was scribbled beneath her name. And almost lost her shit again.</p>
<p> </p>
<ul>
<li><strong><em>Slow runner, incapable of shooting without significant time and focus – WEAK OFFENSE</em></strong></li>
<li><strong><em>Impulsive to a fault – acts on instinct on the field, which works most of the time unless negative emotions (i.e. anger, discomfort) are predominant</em></strong></li>
<li><strong><em>Easily distracted by off-field politics</em></strong></li>
<li><strong><em>Previously torn MCL, left knee, still healing</em></strong></li>
</ul>
<p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p>
<p>There was more, but no fucking way Gideon was sticking around to find out what it was. She quickly glanced over the rest of the paper to confirm her suspicions: yep, every single member of the team (even <em>Coach</em>?!) was included, with a list of all their worst traits helpfully scrawled beneath each name.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With one notable exception: Harrow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seething so much she (<em>temporarily</em>, just for a few moments) abandoned the quest to find her missing stick, Gideon stormed out of the room, Harrow’s cruel little notes clutched in one hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*             *             *</p>
<p>“NONAGESIMUS!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>People in the lobby were staring at her. The team was halfway through breakfast. Gideon didn’t care. Shaking with rage and singularly focused on Harrowhark’s confused, attempting-to-look innocent face, Gideon stormed to the table and immediately grabbed Harrowhark by the front of her stupid black sweater. Ignoring the cries of “Gideon, stop!” and “What are you <em>doing</em>?!” and “I <em>will </em>bench you again, Nav!” behind her, Gideon dragged Harrowhark away from the table and pinned her against the nearest wall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Towering over Harrow with an elbow to the other girl’s throat and the scratchy fabric of the sweater still threaded through her fingers, Gideon was infuriated to find that Harrowhark did not seem at all worried about being pinned to a wall by a girl who was literally twice her size. In fact, Harrow looked bored. Which only made Gideon <em>more</em> angry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What the <em>fuck</em> is wrong with you?” Gideon snarled, bringing her face alarmingly close to Harrow’s.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “And what exactly did I do <em>this </em>time?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>This</em>.” Gideon removed her elbow from Harrow’s throat to shove the scrap of paper in Harrowhark’s face. To her immense satisfaction, it only took Harrow a moment to process what she was looking at, and the recognition in her expression was rapidly replaced with blanched white <em>fear</em>. “Yeah, asshole. I found your little plans to sabotage our team. I <em>knew </em>you decided to be our manager for creepy reasons, I fucking knew it—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before she could do anything else, two pairs of hands were ripping Gideon away from Harrow, forcibly separating them and allowing Harrow to lean heavily against the wall she had just been pinned against. Shaking off Cam and Aiglamene’s grip on her shoulders and arms, Gideon was surprised to find that she felt no desire to say “I told you so” to Coach, and she completely ignored everyone but Harrowhark. Getting her to admit to her scheming was the only thing that mattered. She pushed the notes into Harrow’s face again and growled, “Go ahead. Explain this to them, Nonagesimus. Tell the whole team how you’ve been writing down our—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Gideon,” Something in Harrow’s voice made Gideon stop. Or maybe it was the fact that she had used Gideon’s actual name. “I swear it’s not what you think.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh yeah? Explain, then. I’m <em>dying</em> to hear this one.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can’t—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, isn’t that <em>convenient</em>.” Gideon laughed humorlessly and finally turned her attention to Aiglamene. “Coach, she’s been—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I meant I can explain it to you, but not here.” Harrow hadn’t said anything close to “please” or “sorry,” but somehow she was pleading. “I swear. But we need to go somewhere private.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not going back to the room with you—” Just saying this reminded Gideon of what had started this whole thing. Ah, damn. How had she forgotten about her stick? “And what the fuck did you do with my stick?!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Softly, quietly, Harrow pointed a single finger back at the table where the rest of the team was sitting, watching everything that was happening with rapt attention. Gideon followed Harrow’s hand and saw what she had definitely not expected to see: her stick, leaning carefully against an empty table nearby, perfectly intact and untouched.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I noticed you forgot it when you left this morning,” said Harrow steadily. “I brought it down expecting to find you here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If Harrow expected that to make everything better, if she thought that knowing her stick was safe would calm Gideon down, Harrow was dead fucking wrong. “Fine. But that doesn’t change the fact that you—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Please, Griddle.” Okay, now this was officially begging. “Can we go somewhere else?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>95% of Gideon’s brain was screaming, <em>Don’t follow the psychopath who’s been cataloging your weaknesses to a secondary location</em>. But the other 5%, the part that was nonsensical and hopeful and wanted so desperately to make sure she was accepted and loved, whispered powerfully, <em>Go</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay.” Gideon said desperately and nonsensically.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Visible relief washed over Harrowhark’s features. “Follow me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A string of insults so vile that Coach would have made her eat soap for the rest of her meals jumped to Gideon’s lips. But then Harrowhark said again, “Please.” and for some reason Gideon was undone. She followed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrowhark walked a few feet ahead, which Gideon was all too happy with: she definitely had the advantage if Harrow was planning to attack. But as Harrowhark led her through a door into an unfamiliar hallway, Gideon’s curiosity outweighed her suspicion. “Where are we going?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The pool.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hold up,” Gideon scoffed. “This place has a <em>pool</em>?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes. But it’s disgusting, so no one uses it. We won’t be disturbed there.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon didn’t love the sound of that, but at least it was slightly more public than their room. If Harrow murdered her in a motel room not only would that be hella cliché, it would also take a while for her body to be found. At least at the pool there was <em>some </em>chance that another motel guest would wander in before her corpse started to get maggoty.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow approached a set of glass doors that, sure enough, led to a half-abandoned indoor swimming pool. Even through the glass Gideon could see several cockroaches floating in the greenish water, and everything from the pool chairs to the crooked diving board was in danger of encroaching rust. No one in their right mind would go in that pool. Harrow held the door open and stepped aside for Gideon to enter. Gideon snorted and put a hand far over Harrowhark’s head, holding the door open for the other girl to go in first instead. Harrow made no comment and walked inside. Gideon followed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The smell of some seriously-underutilized and under-appreciated chlorine hit Gideon in a wave of chemical badness. Her nose tingled and her eyes watered. She tried to keep her gaze focused on Harrow and not the green slime that was creeping ominously over the concrete beneath her feet. The sooner they got this conversation over with, the sooner they could leave.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, what are we doing here?” she asked impatiently.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow took a deep breath. Gideon desperately hoped she wasn’t planning to jump into the pool. Instead, Harrow said, with some significant effort, “I have a secret.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh shit,” Gideon didn’t bother to hide her surprise. “Is this – did I unlock your Tragic Backstory?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes.” Harrow said simply. Her black eyes bore into Gideon unflinchingly. “The whole universe knows about your past – you practically give out pamphlets titled ‘How to Succeed at Happiness Without A Stable Home Life’ to everyone you meet. It’s one of the things I most admire about you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I— what?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Everything about what had just been said was baffling to Gidoen. From Harrow’s straightforward “yes,” to her pop culture reference (Broadway? Really?!), to the potentially misheard admission that Harrow <em>admires </em>something about Gideon.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You are so—” Harrowhark bit her lip, like she was struggling to keep the next words inside her mouth. “The world has tried to squash you so many times, Nav – hell, <em>I’ve </em>tried to squash you so many times. With words and misery and extenuating circumstances, and yet you have survived. No, you have <em>thrived</em>. Despite abuse, neglect, hatred, doubt, and all the other things this world has decided to throw at you. Despite it all, you face the world head on. And with a <em>smile</em>. It’s amazing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uhh—” Gideon genuinely didn’t know what to say to all that. “Thanks? What does this have to do with your sociopath lacrosse plan, though? And I thought we were unlocking <em>your </em>Tragic Backstory, not rehashing mine?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m getting to it,” Harrow sighed. “What do you know about my family?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was so unexpected Gideon wasn’t immediately sure how to answer. “Your parents are uber rich because they’re doctors and also they make you go to church a lot?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Did Gideon imagine the wry smile that danced around Harrow’s lips? “Most of that is a carefully curated story I have been maintaining for the last few years. Almost none of it is true.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your life is a <em>ruse</em>?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mostly. My parents were doctors, once. They were two of the most incredible orthopedic surgeons in the country. And their skills did enable them to amass a small fortune to keep us comfortable for the first decade of my life. But that is where the truth ends.” Harrow’s face grew suddenly grave, or at least more grave than usual.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So you’re poor now, whatever.” Gideon said with a shrug. “Welcome to the club. No one cares.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Our dire financial situation is just one small part of this secret,” Harrow said, her voice seemed to be getting smaller. “The primary takeaway is that everything bad that has happened to my family is entirely my fault.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?” Gideon frowned, some pretty serious doubts permeating her brain at that one. “Did you start a gambling ring in middle school or something? Maybe get addicted to Monster? Make some dicey Hot Topic decisions?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No.” Harrow replied curtly. “You see, my parents learned somewhat late in life that they could not have children. By the time my mother was thirty-five, she had already undergone several failed IVF attempts, had performed a number of invasive tests on her reproductive system, and had frozen many of her remaining eggs. But it wasn’t enough. Everything they tried, failed. They were desperate to have a biological child. Our church views adoption as failure. I recognize that’s— it’s not acceptable. But it’s what my parents believe. So they spent hundreds of thousands of dollars, almost every cent they had, on experimental conception treatments. And it worked. Here I stand.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They spent a bunch of money to bring you into the world. That was their decision. Doesn’t sound like it was your fault, like, <em>at all</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Perhaps ‘fault’ was the wrong word, but I still feel responsible.” A pained look crossed Harrow’s face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why didn’t you tell me before?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Isn’t it obvious?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon frowned. “No.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Gideon,” Harrow looked dangerously close to tears. “I have just told you, an abused and neglected byproduct of our broken foster care system, that my disgustingly wealthy parents spent a disgusting amount of money to bring me into the world, while children like you would have benefitted enormously from being taken in by any family. I was so wanted that my parents ruined their lives to get me, and you (by your own admission) have never been wanted by a family in your life. Do you really think me so insensitive as to bring this up on a regular basis?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, it sucks, but I definitely didn’t want to be adopted by your God-obsessed parents either,” Gideon said, trying to keep the disgust in her voice to a minimum.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re missing the point.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, honestly I’m still waiting to see how any of this relates to lacrosse.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m getting there. My family’s – financial situation – has gotten significantly worse in the last year. Now not only do our debts go unpaid, but even basic bills are neglected. My parents have been unable to earn back all the money they lost on me because of their own health issues. They are no longer allowed to perform surgeries.” Gideon could see Harrow’s jaw clench, even in the dim greenish light. “They currently live in a secured mental health facility, and it’s not cheap.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whoa. Okay,” That explained the phone call Harrow had been taking right before Gideon punched her. It also explained why she hadn’t accepted Gideon’s help. “I’m sorry, Harrow.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t—” Harrow seemed to be fighting her natural urge to snarl. “Please don’t pity me. I’m handling it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How?” Gideon couldn’t imagine dealing with all of that in addition to school. Harrow was bound to crack at some point, and it seemed like maybe that had already happened, judging by Harrow’s creepy list of weaknesses. “By writing down how to destroy the lacrosse team you manage?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course not,” Harrow snapped. “That list— it’s not how to destroy the Cavaliers, I promise. I never lied about wanting the team to do well. I need all the scholarships I can get, and that includes one for sports leadership. If I’m able to help a failing team turn their season around, I have a good chance at an extra $5,000 for school. It’s not much, but it would cover my meal plan for the first year at least. The Cavs were the perfect team. But in order to get better, I had to understand what was going wrong. Hence, the list.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re doing this… for money?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did you think I suddenly cared about lacrosse?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No. I thought you just hated me and wanted to see me fail.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nav,” Harrow said seriously. “You are the best chance this team has at making it to playoffs. This team needs you at the top of your game. I need you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“To get money.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And—” the words seemed sticky and slow, pushing roughly against Harrow’s teeth and tongue. “Not just money. I need you to give me hope. As corny as it sounds, you are proof that we can be more than our upbringing. And I need that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This admittance took Gideon entirely by surprise, but she worked hard not to show it. “Harrow. This world is better with you in it, trust me. Your parents didn’t waste anything.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The sentiment is kind. But I cannot simply take your word for it, Nav. I need to prove it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then prove it, bitch.” Gideon said fiercely. “Bring this team to playoffs. With me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow’s body tensed into a black spike of nerves. Something about it made Gideon think about how <em>vulnerable</em> Harrow was, and not just because she probably weighed ten pounds soaking wet and had never done a squat in her life. This feeling made what happened next seem somehow normal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon stepped forward, closing the gap between them. She took it as a good sign that Harrow didn’t back away. They were almost uncomfortably close, now, with less than half a foot of space separating Gideon’s ribcage from Harrow’s forehead. Before she could talk herself out of it, Gideon closed the gap and pulled Harrow’s tiny body into a crushing hug. Harrow, for her part, didn’t resist, but she also didn’t return the gesture. Gideon squeezed her more tightly. She rested her chin on the top of Harrow’s head and breathed deeply, but not in a weird way, just to be sure Harrow was really there. Harrow was warm and surprisingly solid against her, but for some reason it was the smell of books and incense that made her feel <em>real</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then something even more incredible happened: Harrow lifted her face to look at Gideon, her pointed chin resting lightly on Gideon’s chest. Gideon was shocked to realize that Harrow’s dark eyes were slightly wet, yet she was smiling, just a tiny bit. “Wow, am I really so bad at hugging?” Gideon joked weakly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow laughed, a gurgling, embarrassed sound. “No. I’m— overwhelmed. I never expected to admit any of this to anyone, let alone you, and your response was so— <em>kind</em>. It took me off-guard.” Harrow bit the inside of her cheek and looked away from Gideon for a moment. “This world does not deserve you, Nav.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You can’t just <em>say</em> shit like that to me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What else should I say?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How about, ‘Fuck you, Nav. Also you’re incredibly hot. Bench press my tiny ass sometime?’”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck you, Nav.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Close enough.” Gideon said with a grin. Feeling bold, Gideon dropped one hand to Harrow’s waist and pulled them more firmly together, using the other hand to cup the base of Harrow’s neck. A sharp intake of breath from Harrow almost made Gideon lose her nerve, but before she could do anything else Harrow was surging upward onto her toes and crashing their mouths together and <em>holy fuck they were kissing.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow had definitely done this before. She knew how to angle Gideon’s head to keep their noses from bashing together, and Gideon couldn’t help the happy moan that tried to escape her throat when Harrow pressed her tongue (her goddamn <em>tongue</em>!) into Gideon’s mouth. And if Gideon’s knees wavered, just a teensy bit, when Harrow grabbed her by the sides of her head and used Gideon’s hair to tug them even closer together, no one else had to know. Except that Gideon totally stumbled backwards and had to lean against the wall for support. Harrow followed eagerly, pressing Gideon’s back firmly to the tiles and using the extra leverage to deepen the kiss. Tiny black dots were swimming in Gideon’s vision and she realized she’d forgotten to breathe. With a monumental effort, Gideon pulled away with a gasp and a breathless laugh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck on a <em>fuck</em>.” Gideon mumbled, her cheeks flushed with excitement.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Articulate as ever, Nav.” Harrow was infuriatingly unbothered, but if Gideon looked closely she thought she could see something heavy and bright in the other girl’s eyes. “Come on, we’ve got to be on the field in ten minutes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uhngh—” Gideon said intelligently, taken off-guard by the abruptness in Harrow’s voice. “That leaves like eight minutes for us to keep making out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow rolled her eyes. “Never thought I’d see the day when you intentionally did something other than play lacrosse.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, turns out kissing is <em>way </em>more fun than it looks.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Griddle, was that your first kiss?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shut up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think it’s sweet.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t tell anyone.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Promise.” For some reason Gideon believed her. “We actually should go, though. I have some strategies to discuss with you and Aiglamene before today’s game.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A searing swoop of joy attacked every molecule in Gideon’s body. “I have never been more turned on in my life—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Control yourself.” Harrow said sharply. Gideon immediately stopped talking. “Come on.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grinning like a total weeny, Gideon happily followed Harrow out of the room.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>y'all know I had to do the pool scene ♥♥</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Gideon muttered, fighting to keep the smile out of her voice. “but I actually <em>want </em>this tourney to end.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who are you and what have you done with Gideon Nav?” Cam said, shoving Gideon’s shoulder playfully. Gideon returned the favor with a laugh and a swift punch to Cam’s bicep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know, I know,” She ran nervous fingers through her sweaty hair, already glancing around to see if she could catch a glimpse of Harrow’s slight form stalking the sidelines. No such luck. Gideon would have to find her later. Not that it mattered, but they had lost their final game. All things considered it had gone okay – not anything to write home about, but they hadn’t embarrassed themselves. And most importantly: Gideon was at least 80% sure no one had noticed that she was distracted as hell the entire time. Apparently a girl’s first-ever<em> steamy make out sesh next to a nasty motel pool</em> will do that to you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yeah, she’d been riding that high for almost two hours now. And she was planning to ride that Jedi right into a Dagobah swamp. (It wasn’t a <em>perfect</em> metaphor).</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, you with us?” Cam’s voice cut brutally through the ramblings in Gideon’s head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, sorry,” she replied quickly, dropping onto the bench beside the goalie and bending down to help Cam with her bulky shin guards. “Just— a lot. Going on. Like, in my head.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cam’s lips twisted into an amused smirk. Never a good sign. “Clearly.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, were you planning to explain why you want the tourney to be over?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, right.” Gideon had momentarily forgotten she’d mentioned that. The completely stupid idea to just be honest momentarily crossed her mind – then it was quickly squashed as she tried to imagine how that conversation would go. <em>Yeah, so Harrow and I totally made out and it was awesome and I don’t want it to just be a one-time thing but I’m really not girlfriend material and also because of weird family stuff we both really need this lacrosse team to do well and I don’t want to screw that up by messing around with relationship stuff, but when the tourney ends maybe we’ll get a chance to talk about all that and even make out more?!</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hell no. None of that would be coming out of Gideon’s mouth today. Also, would Harrow be mad at her if she told people what had happened? Harrow’s wrath wasn’t worth the risk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Realizing it had been a long few seconds since Gideon had stopped talking, and Cam was now staring at her expectantly, Gideon said quickly, “Just knew we weren’t going to advance in the tourney and want to get back to the real season. That’s all.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Right.” Shit. Cam definitely wasn’t convinced. Why did Gideon have such smart friends? “That’s why you’re stumbling over your words and extra smiley (which is slightly disturbing, by the way) and keep looking around for a team member who is suspiciously missing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“W-what?” Gideon tried to force her body to keep the blood <em>out </em>of her face, but she could tell it wasn’t working. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fine. Don’t tell me. You played a good game today, so Coach <em>probably </em>won’t notice. But if you keep looking at the sideline expectantly <em>every time </em>you make a good play, she’ll definitely know something’s up.” Cam swung her enormous goalie duffle over one shoulder and walked away before Gideon could say another word.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She had to find Harrow. Fast.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nav! Where do you think you’re going?” Coach called suddenly. Gideon hadn’t even noticed that the rest of the team had huddled up on the sideline. “I’ve got expectations for tonight to go over with you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tonight?” Gideon said idiotically. Beth snickered. Ignoring this, Gideon clarified, “Aren’t we going home?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aiglamene made a show of rolling her eyes. “Awards dinner, Gideon. Then we go home.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ahh, fuck. That was the last thing Gideon needed: to be dressed like a stuffy churchgoer and crammed into a dining hall, elbow-to-elbow with the rest of her team while they ate lukewarm pizza and listened to ex-coaches talk about how great random players were. “Is that, um, mandatory?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Flashing her a look that clearly said, “do you think your head is mandatory?” Coach said, “Yes. Especially for captains.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Right. Duh. Gideon ripped open the Velcro on her gloves with her teeth and shuffled over to huddle with everyone else, her stick balanced expertly across one shoulder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now that we’re all here,” Coach said tightly. Gideon fought the urge to give her a cheeky thumbs up. “I wanted to remind you all that you are representatives of not just the Cavaliers, but our entire school. Please act accordingly. Additionally, remember this event <em>does </em>in fact have a dress code – please look like you put in some effort to look nice. Ianthe, I saw your prom dress last year, and for the love of God I hope you brought something less revealing—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“—she can borrow one of my dresses!” Beth said excitedly. Beside her, Ianthe was pretending to gag.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“—I’m sure you’ll figure something out, thank you.” Coach continued. “I know this tournament didn’t go as well as some of us expected, but I think we can all agree that at the very least it provided some good practice and decent insights into what we need to work on going into the regular season. And it seems to have brought this team a little closer together, so well done, ladies.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon might have imagined it, but she was pretty sure Aiglamene’s gaze lingered on her for just a split second longer than anyone else.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright. The awards dinner starts at 5pm sharp. That means you have thirty minutes to get ready and get back to the bus. I’ll meet you all in the motel lobby at 4:45 so we can ride over together. Do not be late.” Coach glared at them all threateningly for a moment. “Off you go.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon sat beside Cam on the bus and pointedly didn’t pay attention to anything or anyone beyond their seat, just in case she was caught (again) looking for Harrow. The tiny smirk hadn’t truly left Cam’s lips, which was worrying. But as Gideon tried to convince Cam to watch <em>Jupiter Ascending</em> (“It’s just not a good movie” “Since when do movies have to be <em>good</em>? Channing Tatum is a <em>space wolf-man</em> on <em>laser roller skates</em>!”), things at least seemed close to normal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Things seemed decidedly less normal when they got off the bus and Harrow was <em>still </em>nowhere to be found. Genuinely concerned now, Gideon tried to play it cool by hiding behind her captaincy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We have everyone, right?” she asked Cam as the team trooped into the motel lobby. “Like, everyone got on the bus?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I assume so.” Cam said, already rifling through her pockets for her keycard.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll just – uh, double check with Coach.” Gideon didn’t wait for Cam’s response – she made a beeline for Aiglamene, who was talking to the guy at the front desk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Coach?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aiglamene didn’t even look away from the paperwork she was reading. “Not now, Nav.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I just wanted to make sure – um, that everyone was on the bus. You know, as captain. That’s my job.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Everyone is accounted for. Well done, Cap.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon could be an idiot sometimes, but she was well-versed in sarcasm. Despite Coach’s dismissive tone, Gideon kept pushing. “Are you sure? Because—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sure. As the chaperone on this trip, it’s actually <em>my </em>job to keep track of everyone, not yours.” Coach sighed and finally looked up from the stack of papers. Still not looking at Gideon at all, she glared at the man behind the desk instead. “You realize this is a total rip-off, right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Prices are set by corporate,” the man grunted, still engrossed in his crossword.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bullshit.” Coach muttered, but clicked her pen and began to sign. Finally she glanced at Gideon. “Go back to your room, you’ve only got about twenty minutes to get changed. And preferably shower.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon grimaced. “Okay.” Harrow was probably already there, anyway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow was not there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her belongings were still scattered around the room from where Gideon had ransacked them earlier. Feeling guilty, Gideon took a moment to put everything back where it belonged, or at least as close to that as possible. Her handiwork wasn’t nearly as orderly as Harrow’s had been, but at least stuff wasn’t strewn all over the room anymore. Trying to convince herself that Coach had everything under control and Harrow wasn’t lying dead in a ditch somewhere, Gideon took a quick shower and dug through her bag for the only “nice” outfit she owned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Despite all the stereotypes and her own woefully meager budget, Gideon loved getting dressed up. Her rumpled suit was slightly worn at the elbows and fraying along several hemlines, but wearing it still made Gideon feel cool and powerful. Leaning heavily into this idea, Gideon shoved her trusty Aviators over her eyes and made sure her hair was sticking up <em>just </em>the right amount. At 4:40 there was still no sign of Harrow, but Gideon reminded herself yet again that the other girl was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. And wasn’t actively avoiding Gideon. Probably. Hopefully.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The lobby was buzzing with excited energy when Gideon arrived. The team looked <em>good</em>. Even Beth, who was draped in a very long purple dress that seemed to slither over her shoulders and looked entirely too nice for a lacrosse awards dinner, was admittedly slaying. Ianthe had thankfully chosen an outfit that was neither a quinceañera gown nor an invitation for underage sex, and somehow her golden trousers and blouse weren’t sucking the paltry color out of the rest of her features (yet). Everyone else had put in the right amount of effort, and looked ready and eager to impress. Gideon grinned at them all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cavs, you’re looking like a <em>snack</em>!” she called from the other end of the lobby, pulling her sunglasses down to the top of her nose and letting out an appreciative whistle. Half the team laughed and jeered back at her. Gideon secretly took it as an opportunity to scan for Harrow one more time, again without success.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After doling out the appropriate compliments, Gideon approached Aiglamene one more time.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What is it this time, Nav?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Harrow—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“—is perfectly fine.” Aiglamene said tiredly. Unless Gideon was seriously going blind, she thought she caught the barest hint of a knowing smile dancing around Coach’s pursed lips. “This is not something you need to worry about.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, but—” Gideon swallowed heavily. She wasn’t worried. “Where is she?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Managerial duties.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The tourney’s over.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The season’s not.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon had to give her that one. Not satisfied but recognizing that this was all the information she was going to get, Gideon reluctantly turned back to the rest of the team. Apparently Coach was on it after all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She wasn’t worried.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Gideon repeated the phrase to herself in her own head, she realized she actually <em>wasn’t </em>worried about where Harrow was. Something else, something profoundly more stupid and embarrassing, was making her anxious. But now wasn’t the time to unpack that particular baggage.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now was the time to make fun of the pompous old coaches who hunted sponsorships like normal people hunted for deals on combo meals, to joke with her team about what objects might be stuck up other players’ butts, to shove way too much pizza in her face and regret it later. Gideon didn’t have time for emotional unpacking. She continued to repeat this to herself as the team trooped into the Canaan house cafeteria, assembled around their designated table, and jittered with nervous energy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Gideon, why are you still wearing your sunglasses?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So I look like I’m hungover. Duh. It’s badass.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s stupid.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No one asked you, Tridentarius.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How could you be hungover? Our last game ended less than an hour ago.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Owned.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fine, Jesus – I’ll take them off. Buzzkills.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I like your dress, Si.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hmm.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you going to prom this year? I’ve been every year, even when I was in eighth grade—"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We know, Beth.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not sure that’s something to brag about.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re all just jealous.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bet you all my blue Sour Patch Kids the pizza is from Papa John’s and the whole order cost less than this table.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nah – I saw a Domino’s on our way over. It’ll definitely cost less than the table, though.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“As long as one of them has pineapple I’m happy!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Heathen.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh yeah, Judith? What’s the best pizza topping, then? Cheese?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“As a matter of fact, yes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Boooo!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“—<em>so </em>boring—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“—technically she’s right: what’s pizza without cheese?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am going to fight both of you. Take your idiotic opinions and get off my team.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good luck finding another goalie.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shit— Cam, you’re on <em>thin </em>fucking ice, but you can stay. Judith, you’re out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shut up, Coach is coming over.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sure enough, Aiglamene was making her way to their table after checking them in. She was wearing what Gideon fondly (and privately) referred to as her “Actual Real Life Legitimate Coach’s Uniform”: a sharp blazer, practical flats, and tastefully tailored jeans. For an old lady, she had style. Gideon scooted over to make room for her at the table, but Aiglamene remained standing, glancing over them all appreciatively.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You all clean up nicely, well done.” she said, giving them all a rare genuine smile. “I know this is probably going to be pretty boring. Try to have fun, and at the very least enjoy the pizza.” Ianthe snickered, drawing Coach’s glare. “Or just try not to be a dick. Welcome to the world of sports, ladies: sometimes you have to endure events like this to show you’re serious about what you do. But as soon as it’s over we’ll head home.” With these reassuring words, Coach dragged a chair to the end of the table and planted herself solidly in front of Jeannemary, who looked like someone had just dropped an angry snake on her lap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, whatever happened between you and Harrow after breakfast this morning?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cam asked the question, extremely conveniently, as Gideon was taking a sip of water. Sputtering and coughing, Gideon spat the water back into the cup and said smoothly, “W-what?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I mean, I assume you probably didn’t murder her,” Cam said nonchalantly, pouring herself a glass of water. “You would’ve asked me to help you hide the body.” True. “But you got to the field alone and haven’t mentioned her at all, so I assume things are okay between you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uhh…” Flashes of <em>lips</em> and <em>teeth</em> and <em>warmth</em> and a happy <em>buzzing</em> in her chest unhelpfully assaulted Gideon’s brain. “Yep. We’re good.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just like that? Didn’t you accuse her of sabotaging the team?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was wrong. All set. Nothing more to say.” <em>At least not for now</em>. Probably. Damn, she really needed to talk to Harrow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You talked it out?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We talked.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cam bit her lip and narrowed her eyes before taking an innocuous sip of water. “Neither of you are the talking type.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’re full of surprises, I guess.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Luckily for Gideon, Cam was not the type of person to press Gideon into talking about something that was clearly uncomfortable for her. Extremely unluckily for Gideon, Ianthe was <em>not</em> that type of person. And she apparently had super great hearing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you guys talking about the fact that Nav and Nonagesimus finally fucked it out?” Ianthe slid her prosthetic arm creepily around Gideon’s shoulders. Cam rolled her eyes and scooted away, which Gideon took as a personal insult since she probably could’ve helped them <em>both </em>get out of this horrible conversation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, Ianthe, just wondering – have you hired a lawyer to help you write your living will, or is that something you’re just planning to do in the two minutes you’ve got left before I kill you?” Gideon snarled, shoving Ianthe’s arm away from her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ianthe laughed with the sickening sweetness of expired cough syrup. “Clever, Nav. Your insults are getting better. But you didn’t answer my question.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Get fucked.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, did you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“None of your business.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s a yes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s a, ‘I don’t owe you shit, especially not details about my personal life. Now get lost.’ Actually.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dearest Goblin,” Ianthe simpered, draping herself around Gideon once more. Gideon choked in disgust and pushed her away yet again, choosing to ignore the idiotic nickname. “I’m just looking out for your fragile little virgin heart. Wouldn’t want you to realize that you’re not the <em>only </em>girl our sweet Harrow has been stringing along.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon clenched her jaw to make sure her mouth didn’t fall open, though whether it would’ve done so out of surprise or disgust was hard to determine. “What do you mean?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, she didn’t tell you during your little… talk this morning?” Ianthe face was shining with glee. Gideon decided she was officially a psychopath. “Harrow and I are a <em>thing</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Panic, cold and tight, wrapped Gideon’s chest in a vise. “Shut up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mm,” Ianthe leaned over and kissed Gideon lightly on the cheek. Blech. “We’re not. But the look on your face told me everything I needed to know. Congratulations to the happy couple.” Shockingly, only the next words that came out of Ianthe’s mouth stopped Gideon from starting another brawl with a teammate then and there. “Oh look, here’s your lady love now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon’s head whipped around so fast she would’ve been embarrassed if she wasn’t so distracted. Ianthe wasn’t lying: Harrow was there, in the cafeteria, hurrying toward them and clearly trying not to draw any attention. Which was difficult, considering what she was wearing. Not that anyone else seemed to have noticed. But Gideon did.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Draped in black as usual, Harrow had nonetheless put some extra effort into her look this time, and it showed. Instead of being swamped in layers of dark fabric, Harrow wore a simple black dress with tasteful bits of lace along the long skirt and sleeves. Her dramatic makeup somehow looked more fitting when paired with the dress, and Gideon did her very best not to stare at her dark lips. Harrow was still covered from neck to ankles, of course, but what usually appeared stuffy and bland was now classy as hell. She kept her head down even as she approached the table with the rest of the team, and it worked: no one but Ianthe and Gideon had apparently noticed her entrance. Which was wild because—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She actually looked… kinda hot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon had to remind herself that she was allowed to think things like that now. Probably.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You actually look… kinda hot.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow glared at her. Good to know not everything had changed. But then Harrow’s face seemed to soften. “You… also look nice.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon’s mouth went bone dry. Okay, so things were different after all. Maybe not in a bad way, though. “Can we talk?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ianthe wolf whistled. Gideon, focused exclusively on whatever Harrow’s face was doing, ignored her. Harrow’s expression didn’t twist into a grimace of disgust, or surprise, or hatred, or any of the other things Gideon had learned to expect from her face. Instead, Harrow <em>smiled</em>. Softly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not here.” Harrow stood and closed her thin fingers around one of Gideon’s wrists. She tugged gently. Gideon followed like Harrow had used excessive strength. Leading them both out of the cafeteria, Harrow walked purposefully into a deserted hallway, confident like she knew the place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon swallowed, keeping her eyes resolutely on the back of Harrow’s head. She didn’t want to get her hopes up. There might’ve been some truth to what Ianthe had said. Harrow had already mentioned <em>being with </em>others, and she was clearly experienced in the kissing department, and it wasn’t like Gideon had advertised herself as someone who would make a good girlfriend, and she was really jumping to conclusions if she thought one kiss meant they would be in a relationship, not to mention all the other reasons why it was stupid to make that assumption—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow turned around, her back against Canaan’s lockers. She looked up at Gideon silently. Gideon did her best to analyze the look, to figure out if what Harrow was about to say was something along the lines of, “don’t tell anyone” or “you didn’t seriously think I’d date you, right?” or any other form of rejection. As usual, Harrow’s face was inscrutable. Realizing suddenly that neither of them had said a word since leaving the cafeteria, Gideon stammered, “Where were you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow looked confused. “When?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“After the game.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh.” The tenseness in Harrow’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “I thought Aiglamene told you. I needed to do some research.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Research…?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Team dynamics and offensive strategies.” Harrow said briskly. “I found some interviews—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Something exploded in Gideon’s mind. Completely without warning, it engulfed her system in uncontrollable flames. The frozen fear that had been creeping around the edges of Gideon’s thoughts was melted immediately, overtaken by fierce, warm joy. Something about the combination of words Harrow had just said (particularly “research” and “team” and “strategies”) made Gideon’s systems go offline in the very best way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wanna be your girlfriend.” she blurted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow blinked. “You… what?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Anxiety returned, cool and numb, to Gideon’s chest. But the floodgates were open now, no going back. “I know, it’s weird – I punched you in the face and we’ve always hated each other and we only kissed one time, but those are kinda dumb reasons to <em>not</em> date someone, right? Well, the punching thing is a good one, but we’re past that. And I just realized— you’re a dick, but I want you to be <em>my </em>dick.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>What</em>?!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fuck. This was fucked, Gideon had fucked it. So she did the only thing she could think of: she kept talking. “No, that’s not what I meant— sorry. I mean, you’re like a weird little information-obsessed goblin and I love that journey for you. And I really liked kissing you. <em>A lot</em>. I want to kiss you more and be the only one who kisses you. We should watch terrible movies together and get bubble tea and shop at Goodwill and do other gay things while we be gay. As girlfriends. And—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before she could say another word, Harrow was shoving Gideon against the opposite wall of lockers and smashing their mouths together again. <em>Finally</em>. Gideon sighed happily and let her eyes fall closed, wrapping her arms securely around Harrow’s back and pulling them together tightly. Harrow had one hand around Gideon’s neck and was using it to pull their faces together incessantly, even though Gideon was pretty sure the tongue swiping against hers had already unlocked that particular achievement. Harrow’s other hand was dancing tantalizingly along the bottom of Gideon’s shirt, and that was extremely cool, especially when Harrow’s fingers brushed against the planes of Gideon’s stomach and slid around to grip her waist. Moaning breathily into Harrow’s mouth, Gideon dragged her teeth experimentally along Harrow’s bottom lip. Apparently that was the right thing to do because Harrow gasped and surged forward even more enthusiastically.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ten centuries later, Gideon pulled her lips away, panting. She rested her forehead against Harrow’s and murmured with a grin, “So… girlfriends, yeah? Gay stuff?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, you idiot.” Harrow said steadily, pushing Gideon heavily backwards and using the lapels of her blazer to pull Gideon forward into another kiss. Gideon had no time to be happy and relieved, she simply responded, meeting Harrow’s eager hands and lips with equal enthusiasm. Slightly more able to think things through now, Gideon suddenly re-realized she was almost a foot taller than Harrow, and the angle was starting to hurt her neck. Unsure how exactly to solve this problem, Gideon did the only thing she could think of: she knelt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On her knees before Harrow, Gideon angled her head up to look at the smaller girl, hoping Harrow would adjust quickly to the new positioning. Instead, something better happened: Harrow’s lips trembled. She stared darkly down at Gideon. She gripped Gideon’s chin between her fingers and pressed the pad of her thumb into Gideon’s lower lip. And she sighed. “Christ, Griddle.” Harrow said reverently. Gideon grinned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who knew you were such a kinky little freak, Nonagesiums?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Says the girl who just dropped to her <em>knees</em> in front of me without being told.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Guess we’re all kinky little freaks here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a sly smile, Harrow tugged her skirt so the hem rested just above her knees. Gideon had a momentary fit of anxiety as she realized Harrow might want to have sex with her right here in the middle of the hallway. “Uhh, not <em>that</em> kinky—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Relax,” Harrow said. For some reason her tone reassured Gideon. “Your knees will start to hurt if you stay down there. Pick me up.” Gideon didn’t need to be told twice (her knees were actually starting to hurt already) – she easily scooped Harrow up and fell back against the lockers again, Harrow’s legs wrapped securely around her waist. Harrow settled with her face slightly higher than Gideon’s and leaned down to kiss her once more, gentle and soft, carding her fingers through Gideon’s hair. Gideon melted and let Harrow lead the way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good to know these are good for something after all,” Harrow said playfully, some amount of time later, pressing her fingers carefully along Gideon’s biceps. Glowing sparks of pride sputtered through Gideon’s face. She grinned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s true, I do 100 push-ups a day to make sure I’m ready any time a girl wants me to hold her up while she pins me against a wall and we can smooch each other’s brains out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you actually do 100 every day?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s insane.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“In a good way, or a bad way?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Both.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll take it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon gushed up into another kiss, but broke away relatively quickly. Harrow breathed deeply and rested her forehead against Gideon’s for a moment. “We should probably go back to the dinner.” Gideon said quietly, lowering Harrow to the floor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a teeny scowl, Harrow nodded. “Fine.” She smoothed her dress,  flattened her hair, and held her chin high. If Gideon hadn’t <em>just </em>had her tongue down her throat, she would assume this was not a girl who had just spent the last ten minutes making out with someone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon looked down at her blazer, now even more rumpled than ever, and could tell her face was flushed and her hair a mess. As if reading her mind, Harrow stood on her toes and reached up to press Gideon’s unruly locks into order. “Thanks.” Gideon said with a grin. Harrow smiled tightly and started walking toward the end of the hallway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gideon jogged to catch up, wrapping an arm affectionately around Harrow’s shoulders to force them to walk together. Harrow sighed begrudgingly, but leaned slightly against Gideon as they walked. With a smirk, Gideon took the opportunity (and her free hand) to entangle their fingers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m glad you’re my dick, Harrow.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t make it weird, Nav.”</p>
<p> </p>
<h3>EPILOGUE</h3>
<p> </p>
<p>The flowers in Gideon’s arms were making her sneeze.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Still, the bouquet was a nice touch. The shiny trophy waiting on Coach’s chair was even better. The fact that her best friend and her girlfriend were standing at her side also receiving accolades? The best. As if sensing that Gideon was thinking of her, Harrow quietly entwined their fingers with the hand that wasn’t holding her own bouquet. A triumphant grin boomed across Gideon’s face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“—which goes to show the depth of these girls’ dedication, teamwork, and hard work this season. Please give our seniors a round of applause.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The small crowd erupted. Gideon ignored them and turned to Harrow, who was smiling despite her insistence an hour ago that she “wouldn’t enjoy a minute of it.” Next thing she knew Vice Principal Dyas was shaking Gideon’s hand and congratulating her again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What the Cavaliers had achieved this season was nothing short of a miracle. Coming back from an early season record of 0-5 was one thing, but ending the season with enough wins to make it to playoffs was quite another. After a rash of well-timed local news articles drew attention to the Cavs’ killer defense (with some serious focus on their defensive captain), Gideon had secured herself a place on in the All-Star game. The scholarships and recruitment offers had poured in after that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The mastermind behind the news articles and strategic success was already attempting to sneak back to the bench. Gideon dropped her flowers and pulled Harrow back to her side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hold up, we’re not done yet.” Gideon mumbled into her girlfriend’s ear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now is <em>not </em>the time to try exhibitionism, Nav—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, gross, no,” Gideon couldn’t help laughing a little. “Coach is <em>right here</em> and she’s basically my mom. I just meant there’s one more announcement Coach has to make, and you’re gonna wanna stay up here for it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aiglamene had already stepped up to the podium. “Thank you for that generous speech, Ms. Dyas,” she said. “Our final award before starting the game is one I’ve never found myself giving before. Frankly, the girls’ lacrosse team has never had anyone notable enough in this position to give it to. But that’s not the case this year, luckily for us… and our record.” The crowd chuckled. Aiglamene fiddled awkwardly with the trophy sitting in front of her before continuing. “In all seriousness, this person is one of the greatest things that’s ever happened to this team. Through tireless devotion not only to victory, but to every teammate, this girl has brought our team closer, elevated our game, and done it without expecting a shred of recognition. It is my pleasure to announce that the winner of this year’s Managerial Award Scholarship is Harrowhark Nonagesimus.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>However loud the applause was Gideon had no idea – she was way too busy sweeping Harrow off her feet into a crushing hug and yelling “YOU DID IT I TOLD YOU YOU’D GET IT!” in her ear. Harrow squirmed in Gideon’s arms, squeaking, “<em>What</em>? Are you serious?!” as Gideon attempted to shower her in kisses. Gideon even ignored Cam, who was tapping Gideon’s arms and saying something that sounded suspiciously like, “Put her down so she can accept the award.” Only when Aiglamene’s wrinkled slightly-less-grumpy-than-usual face swam in Gideon’s vision did she reluctantly let her girlfriend go.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harrow restored her dignity annoyingly quickly and shook Aiglamene’s hand, accepting the trophy with nothing but a small “thank you” and an even smaller smile. But that was okay, because Gideon knew how happy Harrow really was, even if she didn’t show it to the rest of the world. Besides, Gideon was there to show the world enough excitement for the both of them. She stole a quick kiss (quick not for lack of enthusiasm, but for Harrow’s discomfort with PDA) and continued yelling, “That’s my girlfriend! Best manager ever!” to anyone and everyone even as Harrow stalked back to the bench.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was her and Cam’s last home game with the Cavs, but with so much to look forward to (playoffs, sexy summer shenanigans with her dope girlfriend, college together next year, and who knew after that?), it was impossible to be sad. Gideon gave Cam a thumbs up as she took her position at center defense, her stick jovially over one shoulder, toes light and heart even lighter. Stealing a single glance at the sideline, Gideon couldn’t help but grin even wider as she noticed Harrow watching her, clipboard in hand. Even from a distance Gideon could see the tiny furrow in Harrow’s brow that denoted her deep concentration. Leave it to her workaholic girlfriend to still be <em>concentrating</em> after getting an award. She continued smiling as the ref finally stepped onto the field.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The whistle blew. Gideon beamed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>aaaaaaand that's a wrap, folks!</p>
<p>thank you 1 myriad amount of times to everyone who read, kudos'd, commented, etc. ♥♥ thank you SEVERAL myriads amount of times to adrian for becoming my accidental beta </p>
<p>I'm always down to yell about my love for gideon nav on <a href="https://twitter.com/jilljac05">twitter</a> if that's your jam</p>
<p>also still trying to figure out how to get my ass in the TLT discord??? so if that's something you can hook a dude up with......... I'm Interested</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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